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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757157">Fudge Buddies</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles'>jscribbles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal, Background Saileen, Bisexual Dean, Blowjobs, Canon Divergent, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Happy Ending, Miscommunication, Pegging, Phone Sex, Romance, SPNMBB 2020, Smut, Unrequited Destiel, based on friends with benefits movie, canon compliant up to s11 finale, catching feelings, cowboy and nurse roleplay, donnas sister fatshames her, fun and realistic sex, pretend dating, romcom shenanigans, romcom tropes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:02:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>66,191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Amara gifted Dean with “the one thing he needed the most”, Dean didn’t figure he’d walk out of that garden to absolute bupkis. How rude was that? Not even a limo. Just Donna picking him up in her bent-outta-shape truck and offering a high-five for saving the world from impending doom…again. </p><p>Dean tries his hand at dating, only to be publicly dumped because he’s ‘emotionally unavailable’, whatever the hell that means. Fuck dating. Dating isn’t a thing he can put on his shortlist of talents. Bored to tears and totally-not-lonely,  Dean decides he’s good with the on-going intimate relationship he has with his right hand anyway.</p><p>Three hours away, Donna is dumped by another Doug. How could this happen? She’s done everything right. She’s done everything she hadn’t done with the first Doug. Frustrated and hurt, she swears off dating forever, at least until she learns about ‘fuck buddies’. From that, Donna kicks off a casual fling with none other than Dean Winchester. They have sex, laugh, eat pizza, hunt; it’s perfect. It’s the most perfect no-strings attached arrangement. No love, just some kinky boinking involving cowboy boots and nurse scrubs, and no one is “catching feelings”...</p><p>Right? Fudge.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Donna Hanscum/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SPN Media Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Emotionally Unavailable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to my submission for this year's SPN Media Big Bang 2020 based on the 2011 Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis movie 'Friends with Benefits'. </p><p>Huge, huge, huge thank you to son_of_a_bitch_spn_family, ellenofoz, and Malmuses for being betas and alphas and cheerleaders and amazing people. This fic is no longer a mess of commas and repetitive words and writer's tears because of them. They're doin' the lords work, y'feel?</p><p>Mega thanks to my artist partner for this bang: ncdover1285! Please check out their art masterlist here:https://ncdover1285.tumblr.com/post/617189263714484224/art-for-fudge-buddies-written-by-the-incredibly</p><p>Please enjoy this light-hearted (and angsty at times--come on, it ain't a rom-com without some miscommunication) fic about two idiots who love fall in love and don't even know it until it's too late. </p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>Catherine Gomez.</p><p>5’4. Thirty-six years old. She was born and raised in Michigan, but her parents were Columbian. She drove a blue SUV with pictures of her family hanging from the rear-view mirror, swinging beside a purple acrylic peace sign. She lived in downtown Lebanon—which was less of a downtown and more of a main strip beside the only gas station in a ten mile radius.</p><p>Catherine was a regular at <em>The Kings Arms, </em>a dive bar under a laundro-mat and beside the post office. She drank whiskey sours, had a contagious laugh, long brown hair with a red streak down around her face, and she worked at the antiques shop just up the street. Dean had met her during a darts tournament at <em>The Kings Arms</em>, when she handed his ass to him and made him present her with the grand prize cheque of a hundred bucks—it had been his punishment after he’d talked some pretty big game and lost like “a big fuckin’ loser” in her words.</p><p>Dean had kneeled down at her feet in front of a bar full of people cheering her on and raising his glass to her. He’d grinned the entire time, and couldn’t help but blush when she demanded he take her on a date, her other demand following his swift and embarrassing defeat.</p><p>It wasn’t that he didn’t have any other choice; Dean could’ve backed down and refused the date, but Catherine was funny, she was sharp, and he really liked playing darts with her.</p><p>Now, Dean Winchester didn’t <em>date </em>people. He fucked.</p><p>Problem was...he was <em>kinda</em> dating Catherine. By accident.</p><p>It wasn't that he didn’t want to date anyone, it was that he didn’t have time, and when they didn’t know about hunting, it made his long absences difficult to explain. Also, most of the people he and Sam tried to have any kind of meaningful connection with tended to die if they didn’t live far enough away.</p><p>He hadn’t meant to date her—as in <em>date-date </em>her. He thought they were just hanging out. Regularly. With sex, cuddling, going to the movies…and dinners, and walks, and sleepovers. He didn’t think they were <em>dates</em>, they just...were spending a lot of time together because after Amara and Chuck’s departure, the world was kinda quiet in terms of monster-shenanigans. It wasn’t that all the ghosties and ghouls were <em>gone</em>, per say. But Dean and Sam were taking a break.</p><p>And, well, turned out, extended periods of time hanging out in Lebanon just meant that Dean accidentally started dating someone.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Sam was going to get an earful. “Go out and socialize,” Sam had said.</p><p>Dean dating Catherine? That was all Sam’s fault, the dickhead.</p><p>However, what Dean could <em>not </em>blame Sam for was being dumped outside The King’s Arm a month after he started not-dating Catherine. That had been all his fault. He’d started telling Catherine he was going to be gone for a few weeks, that their ‘fling had to be on pause’, and he’d been surprised to find out that she did <em>not </em>consider it a fling.</p><p>She made sure to let him know exactly how she felt in the smoking patio outside the bar.</p><p>“I can’t believe you! I thought you were different, you know? You seemed smart at first, and nice, and funny. But you’re just like every other loser I waste my time with. Hot but empty like an air balloon. Ugh. This is just so...<em>disappointing</em>. I should’ve known better. You’re super distant sometimes and... Hello?” Catherine waved her hands in front of Dean’s face, her eyes narrowing. Her earrings swung against her neck and the whiskey sour in her hand splashed over the edge of the glass, sliding down onto her fingers.</p><p>Instead of listening to her, Dean was wondering if this is what Amara had meant when she’d given him the one thing he always wanted; complete freedom. Is this what complete freedom from prophecy and God-Hell-Meta bullshit meant? Being yelled at by a girl for not being committed outside of a bar? Was this what being almost-normal meant? ‘Cause if so, it sucked.</p><p>Dean blinked, focusing on Catherine. He turned the cool pint of Bud Light in his palm and leaned on the iron railing outside the pub. Waving away the smoke from a nearby group of cigarette smokers, he asked, “Yeah, sorry. What?”</p><p>Catherine looked like she was about to push him into traffic. She poked him in the chest. “I said you’re super distant sometimes. It’s so damn hard to know what you’re thinking, and you know what? You’re kinda weird, Dean. You won’t tell me your last name, and I’m not allowed to come over. We’ve been dating for nearly a month—”</p><p>“Have we?” Dean asked, shrugging his shoulders and waved vaguely at her. He grinned, hoping if he smothered her in charm, she’d stop berating him in front of other patrons. “I mean, I thought we were kinda just having fun—”</p><p>“Ugh,” Catherine groaned, rubbing at her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut and growled through her teeth, “You’re so fucking predictable, guys like you. You’re hot and charming, and funny in a borderline-uncomfortable self-deprecating way—”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>“—but you’re immature, and stuck in your twenties, and you probably have <em>no job—”</em></p><p>Well, sure, hunting didn’t pay the bills, and sure he had lots of time off—</p><p>“—and honestly, I’m not surprised if you live in your mom's basement—”</p><p>Dean stared up at the sky and drank from his glass. Okay, she had him there. He lived in an underground bunker, and that was kind of a basement. Sure, his mom was dead and that still kinda hurt, but he wasn’t about to interrupt Catherine’s spiel by telling her he was an orphan.</p><p>Catherine went on, the tops of her cheeks reddening. “You have a nice body, sure, and you’re good in the sack—”</p><p>Dean wiped at his mouth and winked. “Thanks.”</p><p>“No, don’t ‘thanks’ me, you dick. That’s all you have going for you, because you know what? You’re emotionally unavailable and that is the least hottest thing ever! Nice arms and TV references are only charming for so long, Dean. Did you seriously think we were gonna just keep hanging out and fucking without progression? I’m thirty-six, Dean, I want to build something meaningful. But you? You’re forty going on fourteen.” Catherine gestured vaguely out into the street. “Where is the maturity and commitment?”</p><p>Dean felt himself get hot, too, his mouth flapping opened and closed before he yelped, “I’m busy, girl!”</p><p>Catherine rolled her big brown eyes and scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest, her bangles rattling. “Give me a break, <em>boy</em>. You’re unemployed-as-fuck. You’ve been here every night since we met, and before that you—”</p><p>“I’m a freelancer!” Dean snapped back, feeling his stomach turning. The beer in his hand was empty and he was starting to feel pretty shitty about the things she was saying, and pretty embarrassed that his civilian friends were smirking at him from the mouth of the bar.</p><p>“You’re a free-loader, that’s what,” Catherine barked back, setting down her glass on a table beside them and rifling in her purse, spitting out some hair as it got in her mouth. She reached up and yanked the strands away before throwing a few bills onto the table. With eyes flashing, she said, “Go home to your mom’s basement, Dean. I’m done with you. I wasn’t here to waste time with you and your casual sex. I thought we were going somewhere, but this has been a huge waste of time.”</p><p>He thought maybe her eyes were a bit wet, and he recalled her telling him how she’d gone through a few bad breakups in the last few years, and he felt a pang of guilt. He reached out to her, fingers grazing her arm. “Cathy, wait—”</p><p>He abruptly leaned back when an acrylic nail was pointed between his eyes.</p><p>“We’re done, okay, Dean? No more hangouts, no more flirting. No more drinks, or dancing, or movies, or sleepovers. <em>No more blowjobs. </em>Good luck giving those to yourself. Prick.”</p><p>Dean watched her walk away and sighed, ignoring his buds near the door snickering at his expense. Turning out towards the street, Dean leaned on the iron rail and watched the dregs of his drink swirl at the bottom of his glass.</p><p>This sucked.</p><p>***</p><p>"What d'yah <em>mean</em>?" Donna asked shrilly, her face growing hot, her sinuses stinging and tightening. She stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the police division parking lot, her purse and lunch bag clutched under her arm, her fingers holding a donut away from her face as she struggled to hold her phone between her ear and shoulder.</p><p>Over the phone, she could practically <em>hear </em>Doug's mouth flapping open and closed. He felt awkward, he felt guilty; she knew him.</p><p>"I-I mean I think we're just not workin' out, Donny-boo!"</p><p>"Do <em>not </em>call my yer Donny-boo when you're breakin' up with me, Douglas!" Donna was so furious she nearly stomped her food. "Doncha dare!"</p><p>Jelly dripped onto the parking lot tarmac as Donna took an angry bite of the only thing she had a second to eat that day; a white powdered donut. The division's secretary Candace was getting into her car twenty feet away and waved. Donna waved back, albeit a bit angrily. Powder fluttered to the ground from her dinner.</p><p>"Look, Donna,” Doug carried on, “you're always workin'. Or you’re with Jody in your time off when you could be spendin' time with <em>me</em>. And since ya moved to Sioux Falls, I haven't seen ya for more than six days at most. A man's got <em>needs</em>!"</p><p>Donna scoffed, waving her donut at the pylon she was glaring at in Doug's stead. "Needs? What were your needs, Doug? Fallin’ asleep with Dorito crumbs on your chest while we watch Jeopardy re-runs? I drive over four hours to meet you—yes, Doug, meet <em>you, </em>not the other way around—and instead of dicking me down like a normal boyfriend, ya use our time together to drag me to trivia night with your boys at the pub—"</p><p>"You used to <em>love </em>M*A*S*H Trivia!"</p><p>"Oh, come on, Doug! I only used to pretend to like M*A*S*H Trivia Night because you’d go down on me in the back of your cruiser after. It was <em>romantic</em>!" Donna whispered fervently, though she blushed when Candace did a double take in her direction. Donna ducked her head and headed towards her truck, whipping the rest of her donut into the bushes.</p><p>Doug sighed on the other end of the line. "Yeah, we use’ta have a lot more sex. I don't know why we stopped ‘cause we both seem to miss it…"</p><p>Donna felt her chin wobble and she hauled herself up into the cabin of her pickup truck before Candace could see her cry. Throwing her bags onto the passenger seat, Donna gripped the phone and righted her neck. Gazing out the front window, her vision blurry, Donna murmured, "So let's fix things, Dougie. We...can work on it."</p><p>Her stomach turned and her face grew intensely hot when nothing but silence followed.</p><p>"Don't think so, muffin," Doug replied eventually, his voice low with sadness. "I think it's time to move on. I can't do the long distance. And...to be honest…the big reason..."</p><p>Again, he was silent. Donna shook her head when he took too long to reply. "What? <em>What?</em>"</p><p>"I don’t think you're over your ex."</p><p>Donna's mouth dropped open. "You...don’t think I’m over <em>my ex-husband? </em>Why in the jumpin’ juniper would you ever think <em>that</em>?”</p><p>“You call out his name in bed!”</p><p><em>“Your name is Doug, too!” </em>Donna shrieked, her own ears ringing at the sound of her outburst. If steam could come out of her ears, it would’ve erupted from either side of her head like she was pullin’ the Dumbass Train into the station.</p><p>“Y-Yes, yes,” Doug stammered. “But it really <em>feels </em>like you’re saying <em>his </em>name and not mine. It just <em>feels </em>like it. And ya bring him up <em>all the time</em>, Donnie! Can’t eat a tub of ice cream without tellin’ me that it was Doug’s favourite flavour—”</p><p>“Ya got a problem with my eatin’ ice cream, Douglas?” Donna challenged, her voice going shrill as irrational insecurities bubbled up from the pit of her stomach. Doug 1.0’s jabs about her eating habits had lit a fire in her that both inspired her to fight the mean voices in her head that put her down, and also fed the beast that beat her self-esteem to a pulp.</p><p>“What? N-No! Ugh, Donna! And <em>that too, </em>muffin! The thing with the food. No one is judgin’ ya! I was never judgin’ ya! But you’re always puttin’ yourself down about the way you look and laugh and how ya eat. It’s exhausting, I never knew what to say—”</p><p>With a lump growing in her throat, Donna whispered, “Fer starts, Doug, how about findin’ a nickname for me that wasn’t a lumpy round food! Muffin, dumpling, puddin’!? I was never sure if you were tryna be cute to me or if ya were orderin’ dessert!”</p><p>“Donnie—”</p><p>With a series of hitched breathes and a high pitched noise from the back of her throat, Donna accidentally sobbed and then whispered into the receiver, “Forget it, Doug. We can b-b-break up! It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m <em>busy</em>. Got lots goin’ on, got more important things to worry ‘bout. You go be happy without me bein’ a burden on you.”</p><p>“You were never a—”</p><p>“Hang up now Doug before I throw my phone out the window!” Donna threatened.</p><p>“Don’t do that, pudd—<em>Donna</em>. That was an expensive phone. You worked real hard to save for it.”</p><p>“<em>So hang up. </em>And don’t call me back when you change your mind!”</p><p>Doug made a series of exasperated noises. “Don’t be angry, Donna. Please. I want to stay friends. You’re a great girl, I—”</p><p>He wanted to stay <em>friends</em>. Donna held out the phone, staring at it, fighting the very intense, visceral urge to roll down her window and throw her phone into the bushes with the donut. But instead, she raised it to her ear and interrupted Doug.</p><p>“Okie dokes.” Donna cleared her throat, her voice coming out steady even though a thick, lumpy tear was creeping down her cheek. Rushing to be done with the conversation because she could feel a mental breakdown and a sob-fest on the horizon, Donna rushed out, “O-Okie dokie, Doug. Friends. Ya, okay. Sure. I-I should go. I’ll mail you your stuff. I...gotta go.”</p><p>Despite feeling the wobbly, trembling feeling of panic-induced tears welling up in her eyes, Donna was rather proud of herself—she made it all the way home, past Jody and the girls, and managed to wait until she was in a hot bath before she leaned her forehead in her hand and broke down into tears.</p><p>This sucked.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A What-Buddy?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you want to talk about it?”</p>
<p>In response to Sam’s question, Dean pouted and shrugged, tapping down heavily on the remote control to change the channel. Post-Catherine, Dean had moved a TV into his bedroom and hadn’t done much else since. It’d been six days, and this was only Sam’s twelfth welfare visit.</p>
<p>This time, he brought beer.</p>
<p>“No,” Dean murmured, his finger hovering over the arrow button as he accidentally jumped past Die Hard <em>and </em>old school Power Rangers. What a stressful choice.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” Sam asked, inviting himself into Dean’s room and sitting on the end of the bed, managing not to be <em>too </em>offensive in the way he bristled against the days worth of fast food and chip bags littering the bed covers. “Uh, ‘cause you’re kinda nesting.”</p>
<p>“Nesting?”</p>
<p>“Like a rat,” Sam added, shoving away a pizza box with his foot. “In garbage.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you, Sam.”</p>
<p>“It smells like an actual sewer in this room, Dean. When was the last time you got out of bed? Or cleaned? Or showered?”</p>
<p>A flicker of anger twinged in Dean’s stomach, but it was quickly extinguished as he tipped his head back and polished off the Pepsi he’d been balancing on his chest. “Do you think we’ll ever be able to be normal?” Dean asked loftily, instead of telling Sam he hadn’t showered since he started binging Breaking Bad four days ago. “Or do you think we’re gonna continue to have empty, useless relationships with people for the rest of our lives until we die alone, drowning in alcohol and PTSD?”</p>
<p>Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Uh…”</p>
<p>Dean sat up, waggling his remote at Sam and ignoring the way his younger brother was staring at him like he’d grown a tentacle for a nose. “Hunters, Sam, can’t have relationships, okay? You know why? Because we’re damaged goods. Emotionally-unavailable damaged goods. We’re layered and complicated. Like those little Russain dolls that get smaller the more you open them, except instead of getting smaller, we’re just more mangled and fucked-up, and the last Russian doll just bursts into flames.”</p>
<p>Sam stared. Almost dazed, he asked, “I have whiplash. What the fuck are you talking about?”</p>
<p>Dean wiped the back of his wrist across his forehead and sighed, shutting his eyes. “I need a shower.”</p>
<p>“You need therapy.”</p>
<p>“I need every relationship I try to have to not fail, okay, Sam?”</p>
<p>Sam scowled. “Dean, what relationship?”</p>
<p>Dean tossed the remote onto the sheets covering his feet and he threw his hands up in the air. “I tried to have a fuck-buddy relationship with this girl in town, and then kinda accidentally ended up sort-of dating her. And even though I didn’t mean for it to happen, it flopped, okay?”</p>
<p>“<em>You </em>tried <em>dating </em>someone?” Sam asked, his brows rising so far up his forehead that Dean was ready to see their spirits ascend to Heaven past Sam’s hairline and up through the ceiling.</p>
<p>“Well,” Dean clarified, shrugging and yanking the robe over his shoulder as it threatened to slip off, “‘not dating-dating, more like consistently seeing the same person and having casual sex with only them<em>—”</em> He waved vaguely at Sam. “But yeah, I tried it, okay? Amara was like <em>‘eh, yeah, I’m going to give you what you always wanted’ </em>but then fucked off with Chuck in a puff of dust, and instead of giving me a normal life like I wanted—” </p>
<p>Dean consciously ignored the way Sam’s face softened.</p>
<p>“—all she did was leave me alone to walk outta that place to Donna waiting in a pick up truck to take me back to you idiots. Sure, she had donuts and stuff, which is nice, but I kinda expected to come from that interaction with Amara to, like...a world without demons and monsters, where we could finally be happy, where shit would get a little easier, where we could each settle down and cruise through the rest of our lives—”</p>
<p>Sam’s stupid soft face was still soft. His lips slid into one of those kind, knowing smiles that made Dean feel all self-aware and self-conscious. Tucking hair behind his ear, Sam said, “You...wanna be normal?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Dean rebutted, shrugging and sitting back against his headboard with a thump. He stared at the TV, now muted. “I… Oh, stop looking at me like that. If it really came down to it and God’s-freakin’-sister could change the world to give you what you wanted, wouldn’t you expect a monster-free world where we could finally be normal? Do normal people things?”</p>
<p>With a look of concession, Sam huffed in laughter and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”</p>
<p>“So sue me, I tried to force it,” Dean grumbled, glaring at the pink power ranger kicking some ass on the screen, but not really seeing them. “I tried to have a fun, regular, casual fuck-buddy thing with this girl from <em>The King’s Arms</em>. She was hot, and funny, and smarter than me, which is totally my type, but she got weird and wanted to date, and I got weird and apparently that makes me emotionally stunted? So she dumped me in front of everyone I know at that place, Sam! And I only know like four other people in the city, so there goes four civilian friends I had.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and <em>didn’t pout. </em>“I’m not cut out for normal people stuff.”</p>
<p>“Dean, just because you got dumped once doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for normal people stu—”</p>
<p>Dean went on, cutting Sam off, feeling the fire of anger in his belly again. He sat up and pointed vaguely, fixing Sam with a peeved look. “She was <em>mad </em>at me because I wouldn’t tell her my last name, and she wasn't allowed to come over, but what else were my options here, Sam? <em>Oh, yeah, Cathy, come over to my secret lair underground. Just ignore the library of old-as-fuck, ancient-as-balls books, and oh, yeah, don’t touch that sword, it’s cursed.”</em></p>
<p>Sam grinned and it just lit a fight under Dean’s argument.</p>
<p>“Not funny, Sam!” Dean snapped. “Hunters? We’re not meant to have relationships like normal people. We don’t have time, and honestly, it’s just fucking sad when it doesn’t work out! Civilians don’t understand, they never could. We’re all broken and jaded and work too much. It’s no good for relationships.”</p>
<p>As Dean spoke, Sam herded around some chip bags, clearing some room for himself. He leaned back on his elbow and laid down sideways on the bed, shaking his head at his brother, his eyes twinkling fondly. “Dean, lots of hunters have normal lives. Kids, businesses, spouses…”</p>
<p>Completely ignoring him, Dean powered on with his rant, too wrapped up to listen to reason. “I’m a hunter. I am, apparently, emotionally unavailable, ergo, hunters are emotionally unavailable, and chicks don’t dig you if you’re emotionally unavailable.” He paused, and pondered lightly, “Maybe I’ll be gay?”</p>
<p>Sam’s eyes rolled so far back Dean was automatically tempted to tell him they’d get stuck that way. “Dean,” Sam groaned, “first of all, to say ‘chicks’ don’t dig you if you’re emotionally unavailable is crap. Second of all, why would <em>guys</em> be any less turned off about you being emotionally unavailable than girls? And thirdly, you’re already pretty gay.” </p>
<p>Too chicken-shit to admit that the only man Dean had ever been in love with had been the most emotionally unavailable person he’d ever met and <em>that </em>was the reason for his assumption, Dean shrugged. “I’m not ‘pretty gay’, I'm...half-and-half."</p>
<p>"Like the milk?"</p>
<p>"What? No-I...Fuck, fine, Sam. I’m <em>bi</em>," Dean groaned, and although he'd more or less come to terms with his sexuality, old habits died hard so his stomach twisted for a moment as he tried to rush past the topic. "What-the-fuck-ever.”</p>
<p>Sam clearly decided to skip over Dean’s clarification, but instead offered, “I mean, you could. Just try dating just guys, instead. Not that, y’know, you being emotionally unavailable will magically disappear if you do." Sam grinned, staring fondly at the muted Power Rangers. "Remember when you had a crush on Cas for like three years?” </p>
<p>Oh. </p>
<p>So Sam was just going to come out and say that then, huh?</p>
<p>With that uncomfortable little twinge in his chest that felt shamefully like heartache, Dean snapped, “Wow, really uncool. I thought we were never going to talk about that. Fuck me for sharing that with you, right?” </p>
<p>Sighing and sitting up to reach for the beer between his ankles, Sam said, “Well, you didn’t really<em> need </em>to share it. I mean, everyone knew, Cas included.” </p>
<p>“He did not.”</p>
<p>Sam sat up and cracked open a beer, handing it to Dean. He winced. “He did.” </p>
<p>Despite shrugging and scowling, trying to appear nonchalant, Dean’s hands sweat around his beer. “Well, whatever. Chicks, dudes, they’re all hot, but you know what? None of them are getting this—” He waved down his body. ”—long term. ‘Cause our lives are bloody, and messy, and depressing—”  </p>
<p>Although the room was mostly dark, save for the lamp light and the flickering TV show, Sam’s cheeks flushed with a hint of colour and he admitted, “Dunno. Eileen and I are doing pretty well.”  </p>
<p>Castiel forgotten, and Catherine back on his mind, her sharp words stinging all over again, Dean snapped, “Yeah, okay, Sam, I fucking get it, you’re stable and—” </p>
<p>“Emotionally available?” Sam offered, eyes flicking up at Dean from the show, his grin hovering an inch from the rim of his beer.</p>
<p>“Dating a <em>hunter</em>, it’s different,” Dean corrected grouchily. “We can’t all be that lucky.”</p>
<p>“You could,” Sam gestured vaguely in Dean’s direction with his beer, “y’know, date a hunter?”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Dean said, mind flashing back to all the times he and Cas fought side by side, his heart recalling the intense sense of protectiveness when Cas got hurt and recalling the feelings of betrayal and heartbreak when Cas betrayed them or chose Heaven. Despite being over Cas in <em>that way</em>, Dean still felt the lingering soreness of watching someone he had been in love with get hurt, or disappear. “I’m gonna be single forever, and continue to just get sex where I can get it.”</p>
<p>Sam rested his cheek in his palm and sipped on his beer loudly. </p>
<p>Together, the boys watched TV. </p>
<p>“So you’re just going to be alone forever?” Sam asked during the next commercial break, his foot bobbing in the air where it hung off the side of Dean’s bed. “You’re just gonna have sex with people until you die?”</p>
<p>Licking a droplet of beer that’d travelled down the side of his can, Dean nodded with conviction. “Yup. It’s easier, Sam. Fucking is simple. You flirt, you come, you get out and don’t have anyone to answer to. No one is bait for the bad guys to use against you, no one gets hurt, or killed. The fewer people we have to invest feelings in, the better. You’re fuckin’ nuts for starting something with Eileen. It’s gonna end badly. Everything always ends badly for us.”</p>
<p>Sam’s mouth curled and pursed, scrunching up as he stared thoughtfully at the TV, his brow momentarily heavy with concern before he relaxed and shook his head, brown bangs flittering across his forehead. “Nah,” he replied, a small smile curling over his lips. “It’s worth it, Dean. She’s worth giving it a shot.”</p>
<p>“You’re reckless,” Dean accused, sighing and curling over for a moment to add his now-empty beer to the growing collection on his bedside. </p>
<p>He heard Sam snort. “Yeah, well, better reckless and happy than emotionally unavailable and smelly.”</p>
<p>Dean tipped his head back and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. A moment later, he growled and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, making sure to toss his bedsheets back and ‘accidentally’ hit Sam in the face with a few empty chip bags. </p>
<p>“Oh my God, fine. I’ll go fucking shower.”</p>
<p>“Good call, jerk!” Sam cried out after him. “No one is going to want to fuck you if you’re depressed <em>and </em>stinky!”</p>
<p>“Shut up, bitch!”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>In a foster home of wayward college girls, Jody had her alcohol stashed pretty damn well, hidden in clever places like in shoe boxes, behind her bedside table, and in a trunk beside the fireplace labelled ‘Quilts and Crochet’. </p>
<p>As if Jody had time to do quilts or crocheting. </p>
<p>It was just the most boring thing she could think of so that the girls wouldn’t go snooping for her extensive collection of red wine and hard liquor.</p>
<p>Donna was lucky to have such a good friend that she lived nearby. As soon as she announced her breakup with Doug, Jody had invited her over, and had not only wine freshly broken out of the crotchet trunk, but warm, fresh cinnamon buns and deep dish pizza waiting on the coffee table in front of the fire.</p>
<p>And tissues.</p>
<p>Because Donna was a crier.</p>
<p>“I’m just gonna be alone forever,” Donna wept, blowing her nose into a scrunched tissue and resting her head back on the back of Jody’s squishy couch. “Been through two Dougs now and nothin’ I did pleased either of them. I was too fat for one, and too busy for the other one, and I wanted too much sex with one and not enough sex with the other.” She lifted her head from the couch and sniffed hard, more tears tumbling down her shiny, warm face. </p>
<p>“Drink more wine,” Jody instructed firmly, handing Donna her refilled glass before pouring herself some more and setting the bottle back down onto the table beside half-eaten pizza. </p>
<p>Donna accepted the wine and took a few greedy gulps before she balanced the bottom of the glass on her knee and wiped at her face with her palm. “I j-just feel so lost, y’know? Don’t know what men want from me. I can’t be nobody but Donna, ya know? Can’t be nobody but me, but me doesn’t seem good enough.”</p>
<p>“It’s because men are useless,” Jody explained, like she was breaking down the concept for someone who had never heard it before. Clearly, she was still a tad bitter about that one time a demon named Crowley attempted to murder her on a date. </p>
<p> “Thankfully, nowadays they make the only useful part of them in factories and sell them in a variety of colours and shapes.” Jody patted Donna’s knee and pointed, adding, “Delivery is free over fifty bucks on most orders.”</p>
<p>Donna sobbed, her head tipping down until her chin hit her chest. “I n-n-need...”</p>
<p>“More pizza?”</p>
<p>Donna lifted her head and squeezed her eyes shut, fresh tears splashing onto her cheeks. “<em>Yaaah</em>.”</p>
<p>A plate with a hot slice of cheesy, saucy goodness was in her hand a moment later. “Take that,” Jody coached, picking up her own plate once Donna had taken hers. “Wash it down with some pinot and consider yourself lucky Doug is in your rearview. There’s something better on the horizon, Don. And first place to find it is right in the bathroom mirror.”</p>
<p>Donna hiccuped around a mouthful of cheese and crust. “Why would a beefy, nice, funny ol’ lumberjack of a man be in my bathroom mirror?”</p>
<p>Jody paused before she even had a chance to take a bite of her slice and groaned, her eyes sliding closed. “No, Donna. You. <em>You’re</em> the person who’s better, the person you have to love. You just have to—”</p>
<p>Partway through Jody’s no-doubt length speech about how Donna had to love herself before she could love anyone else (or whatever else she’d learned from their Ru Paul binges), the front door opened and closed, and Claire dragged her feet into the room.</p>
<p>The girl stopped as she approached the back of the couch, her finger tapping the top of the old leather as she looked between then, her smirk disappearing as she saw Donna’s face.</p>
<p>“Uh oh,” Claire muttered, her smoky eyes narrowing. “What happened?”</p>
<p>Jody opened her mouth, eyes widening, probably to warn Claire, but Donna beat her to the punch and she whispered roughly, “Doug broke up with me.”</p>
<p>Claire, in all her glory, leaned over and patted Donna on the shoulder. With a smirk, she said, “There, there, no use crying over spilt dickbag losers.”</p>
<p>“<em>Claire!”</em></p>
<p>While Jody looked peeved, Claire looked pleased with herself as Donna laughed into her next bite of pizza.</p>
<p>“What?” Claire shrugged, her leather jacket squeaking. She rounded the couch and dropped down onto it beside Donna, resting her elbow on the back of the seat and twirling a long blonde braid around her finger. “Sorry, Jody, but Doug was a dickbag loser. He did nothing but talk about that stupid old TV show—”</p>
<p>“M*A*S*H,” Donna whimpered after she swallowed a mouthful of deliciousness and washed it down with a gulp of pinot.</p>
<p>“Right, whatever,” Claire muttered, before she went on presenting her case. Her brows were up on her forehead as she surveyed Jody’s scowling face. “The dude gave Donna shit about <em>everything</em>. Living too close and being too clingy, then living too far and not being clingy enough. He was kind of an idiot—no offence, Donna.”</p>
<p>“None taken,” Donna said glumly. </p>
<p>“He complained that she lived too far now, even though four hours is <em>nothing</em>. He didn’t visit <em>once </em>and he—”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay,” Jody conceded, raising her palm in the air. With a sigh, she pursed her lips then said, “I think we all got it.”</p>
<p>Donna felt <em>wretched</em>. Jody was trying so hard to make her feel better, and she knew Jody’s bitterness towards dating and relationships was troubled at best; nearly being murdered on a date, and kissing her friend Bobby with no pay off, and losing her family to apocalypse shenanigans left a bitter taste in her mouth. But what Donna needed right now was a light at the end of the tunnel, not crippling anger towards love.</p>
<p>“I just...don’t want to be lonely,” Donna murmured, putting her half-eaten pizza slice with the other ones she’d abandoned as sadness kept taking over after each spike of emotional-eating. </p>
<p>The three women exchanged looks, and Jody’s face softened, nodding. On her other side, Claire picked up Donna’s abandoned pizza slice and ripped off a piece of the crust, chewing on it loudly. </p>
<p>“Fuck loneliness,” Claire said, her words muffled around pizza rolling around in her mouth.</p>
<p><em>“Claire!”</em> Jody warned.</p>
<p>Ignoring her, Claire went on, smacking Donna on the knee with the crust, leaving behind a splotch of cheese grease. “You know what you need? You don’t need a boyfriend to not be lonely, you need a fuck buddy.”</p>
<p>“<em>Claire!”</em></p>
<p>“Take a chill pill, Jody,” Claire snorted. “I’ll put a quarter in the swear jar after. Look, Donna,” Claire turned her body towards Donna, waving with the pizza crust as she spoke. “Have casual sex. Everyone is doing it.”</p>
<p>A vein in Jody’s forehead became pronounced and her eyes went wide. “Everyone? Everyone <em>who?”</em></p>
<p>For a rough-around-the-edges orphan with a devil may care attitude, a flash of child-like panic did cross Claire’s young face before it slipped back behind an expression of nonchalance. “Uh, well, most people. Not me. I’m...busy.”</p>
<p>“You’d better be,” Jody threatened, tapping her nail against her wine glass before she raised it to her mouth. “I’ll have the sex talk, Claire. I’m not scared of the sex talk.”</p>
<p>Claire’s lips fell into a thin line. “I’m nineteen. Please no.”</p>
<p>“Don’t <em>make </em>me. I got condoms and I’m not afraid to give them out.”</p>
<p>“Ew, why do <em>you</em> have condoms?”</p>
<p>“Because I’m an <em>adult</em> and I—”</p>
<p>Claire bristled. “I’m an adult, too!”</p>
<p>“If you’re afraid of a sex talk and say ‘ew’ at condoms, then you’re not mature enough to be having—”</p>
<p>Donna raised her hands and hiccuped. “Not wantin’ to take away from the parenting here, Jodes, but I’m havin’ a bit of a crisis, ya know? Can we refocus?”</p>
<p>Jody drank deeply from her wine, leaning over towards the coffee table, distracting herself with choosing a warm cinnamon bun, still toasty because of the fire roaring in the mantle by them. Donna’s attention was drawn back to Claire, who was gently coaxing the nearly empty glass of wine from Donna’s grasp, and quickly tipped it back into her mouth before Jody could see.</p>
<p>Licking her lips, Claire smirked again, perked up, and went on. “Anyway, as I was saying; screw relationships, dude. They’re lame. People suck. Just have casual sex. Friends with benefits, if you can’t do the stranger thing.”</p>
<p>“Claire is right, you know.” Alex’s voice joined their conversation, coming from the kitchen. Donna hadn’t even realised the girl was home from working at the hospital, but there she was, in purple polka dot scrubs, gnawing on a granola bar as she sauntered out of the kitchen and dropped down onto the floor beside the fire. She looked between everyone and shrugged, waving her snack. “Be a modern woman. Fuck for fun; you’re busy. Who even has time to date in between working and hunting? Download Tinder. Or find a friend who’ll fuck, uncomplicated.”</p>
<p>“<em>Alex!” </em>Jody growled, flicking a piece of cinnamon bun at her ward, her eyes wide and brows nearly at her hairline. “What’s with you two and saying ‘fuck’ all the time now? It’s called sex! If you’re gonna say it, then say it right!”</p>
<p>Alex and Claire exchanged rolled eyes, but Donna didn’t care which word they used. She was intrigued.</p>
<p>“I will miss Doug for the times we did have some good tumbles,” Donna pondered, watching the dregs of wine spin around the bottom of her glass as she turned it. “Might help me get over him, ya know? Might be fun. I...never had nothin’ like that before—a sex buddy.”</p>
<p>“A fuck buddy,” Claire clarified.</p>
<p>“A fudge buddy,” Alex supplied quickly with a grin when Jody looked ready to actually break out a swear jar. Before Jody could flip her lid, Alex corrected with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, “A friend with benefits. Nothing helps you get over a breakup like a good rebound. Trust me.”</p>
<p>The girls exchanged morose looks, and Jody looked between them, before asking in surprise. “Alex, did you break up with your boyfriend?”</p>
<p>Alex’s mouth twisted sourly, and she distracted herself by leaning forward and tugging a gooey cinnamon roll from the open box in front of her. “My boyfriend might’ve accidentally tripped and fallen in-and-out of a friend-of-a-friend-of-mine. I was sad about it but—” Alex’s scowl twitched into a smile as she huffed with laughter. “—I downloaded Tinder and I feel <em>much</em> better now.”</p>
<p>Jody gasped, throwing a pillow at Alex, while Claire yelped with laughter.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Donna? </p>
<p>Donna felt inspired.</p>
<p>Friends with benefits? It was intriguing. Very intriguing. She wasn’t sure she could do the stranger thing. She wouldn’t even know where to begin soliciting someone at a bar for only sex. What she needed was a single friend who would be willing to have sex with her on a regular basis and not make it weird.</p>
<p>…Fudge.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Hunting Season</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On top of the pizza-induced gut rot, a wine-induced hangover, and her Doug-induced heartache, Donna hadn’t slept well and the next morning she could be found half-curled around the edge of the island in Jody’s kitchen, her head in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.</p>
<p>Shortly after, Jody came into the kitchen—no doubt led there by the tip of her nose as she followed the nutty scent of hazelnut coffee wafting from the steaming pot beside the sink. She dragged her feet across the wooden floor, poured herself a cup, and slumped down onto the stool opposite Donna, her cheek squished into her palm.</p>
<p>“Morning,” Jody rasped, slurping on her coffee. Her bleary eyes blinked a bit, then she asked with a high-pitched tilt to her voice. “Did we really polish off three bottles last night?”</p>
<p>“Oh yah,” Donna replied, almost dazed. She nodded, a clump of hair falling from her messy bun down into her face. “Oh, we sure did. Guzzled ‘em down by midnight like thirsty fishies on a bender. Y’even let Claire have a glass, so, ya know…we really tied one over.”</p>
<p>“Mm,” Jody grunted, smacking her lips together and rubbing sleep and dried mascara out of her eyes. It smudged underneath her lashes rather badly on one side, but neither woman cared. Donna was sure one of her eyebrows was completely rubbed off on her pillow upstairs. </p>
<p>Donna must’ve zoned out thinking about her missing eyebrow, because Jody had to poke her hard on the shoulder to jog her back to sober reality. </p>
<p>“Did you sleep at all?” Jody asked, and when Donna met her eye, Jody sighed, her gaze softening. “You look like shit, no offence.”</p>
<p>“My eyes are all puffy, aren’t they?” Donna winced. </p>
<p>“Just a bit.” Jody’s mug clinked down onto the wooden island and she groaned as she hauled herself off her stool and crossed the kitchen to open her blinds. </p>
<p>As the sunlight blinded them both in its journey to illuminate the room, Claire walked in with Alex in tow and hissed in mock pain. “Ugh, the sun! It burns!”</p>
<p>“You’re such a loser,” Alex said, sweeping past everyone, her scrubs making swishing noises as she walked. After she opened the fridge door, reaching in for a water bottle, Alex looked around at the three other women and asked with a raised brow, “Should I hook all three of you up to an IV? It smells like a bar in here.”</p>
<p>“What do you know what a bar smells like?” Claire challenged, dropping down onto a stool and reaching forward to help herself to Donna’s coffee.</p>
<p>“I’d love to know the same thing!” Jody snapped, turning from the window and leaning her hip on the counter.</p>
<p>Alex’s face flushed and she purposely lowered her eyes to avoid Jody’s piercing, accusing look of alarm. “I gotta go to the hospital. See you guys later.”</p>
<p>Jody looked half-tempted to follow Alex out, but she eased herself back down onto a stool. Claire saved her from speaking as she asked conversationally, “Didn’t sleep well? Was it the booze or all the crying?”</p>
<p>“<em>Claire!”</em></p>
<p>While Jody sounded aghast, Donna just pressed her mouth into a tight smile and she pushed a clump of frizzy, wavy hair behind her ear and raised the coffee to her mouth to buy time. “Oh, ya know… Bit of both.”</p>
<p>In a rare show of compassion, Claire patted Donna on the arm, her thumb pausing to rub a small circle before she flashed her a crooked, closed-lip smile and offered, “I was up pretty much all night, too.”</p>
<p>“The booze or the crying?” Donna asked. </p>
<p>Jody caught her eye and smirked over the rim of her ‘BEST SHERIFF EVER’ mug.</p>
<p>Claire rolled her eyes. “Very funny.” With a flicker of excitement in her eye, the girl looked between her guardians, tiny braids and waves swinging around her collarbone. “No, listen, I was looking up cases—”</p>
<p>“I told you not to do that anymore, Claire! You have college to focus on now,” Jody berated, a touch of flush blossoming on her pale cheeks. “Leave the hunting to the hunters. Don’t you have a—”
</p>
<p>Smokey eyes narrowing, Claire snapped, “Yeah, Jody, I know I have an exam on Monday! But I couldn’t sleep and I figured instead of counting sheep like a good little girl, I’d bum around online. And I’m glad I did.” Claire turned to look at Donna, who wanted Claire to do well and succeed in school, but was also rather proud of the young girl for having such drive and passion for something like hunting. Claire’s blue eyes—the same one Dean’s friend Castiel had—flickered with excitement. “I found a case.”</p>
<p>“You did now?” Donna asked, winking at Jody before grinning at Claire, who looked real damn proud. Stealing back her coffee from Claire’s hand, Donna nodded at her. “Go on, tell us all about it, Nancy Drew.”</p>
<p>Nineteen year old Claire looked as excited as a nine year old on Christmas, raising a bit in her chair as she explained. Even Jody, who worried about the girl’s obsession with the paranormal and hunting, sat quietly to listen. </p>
<p>“Ghosts,” Claire whispered with a wide-eyed look of glee. “Actual, real life ghosts. A whole bunch of them. New lofts opened up just outside of Rapid City over in what used to be a mental hospital. The property had been revamped into these douchey hipster lofts, but residents keep moving out like weeks after moving in, claiming they’ve been seeing things; figures at the ends of their beds, bloody footprints on the floor. They’ll wake up in the middle of the night with all their lights on and cabinets open, and sometimes the TV sets will all turn on but it’s just static. Unplugging them does nothing.” Claire looked between them, grinning. “Cool, huh?”</p>
<p>Donna blinked at her. “Has anyone gotten hurt?”</p>
<p>Claire had the decency to not look too excited at that. She shrugged a shoulder and tucked frizzy hair behind her ear. “Well, kinda. People have reported waking up with scratch marks all over them, and their hair pulled out. Police think it’s some mass hysteria, but a few people report being chased, or pushed, or tripped. One lady even said she woke up with hands around her neck but no one was there.”</p>
<p>There was a silence when Claire trailed off, looking between them, but Jody piped up quickly. “It does sound like a case, I’ll give you that. Don’t know if ‘cool’ is the right word for it,” she added, narrowing her eyes. “But like you said; <em>you have an exam on Monday.</em>”</p>
<p>“Right.” Claire relaxed back into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest and looking pouty—at least as pouty as the troubled teen allowed herself to be in front of anyone who had authority over her.</p>
<p>“We’ll pass it on to someone else,” Jody said firmly, swirling the last of her coffee at the bottom of the mug. “We’ll make sure it gets taken care of. We—”</p>
<p>“I can do it,” Donna piped up. With a wave of relief, she realised she <em>wanted </em>to take on the case. An excuse to get her mind off Doug and the eternal loneliness that she was no doubt doomed for. She needed to do something productive. She wanted to kill some monsters and save some people. She’d taken a few days off to go visit Doug, but if that wasn’t happening, then she was sure as shit going to do something useful with her time. </p>
<p>Donna raised her mug at Jody. “Mills? You in?”</p>
<p>Sliding back down onto her stool and tapping the bottom of her mug against the wooden island with a disapproving look still lingering on her face at Claire, Jody shook her head. “No,” she said. “I work tonight. But you should have backup. One ghost, sure, that’s a solo thing. But a whole lot of them is a group effort. Call Dean and Sam. Not sure those boys have been up to much the last little while. I think that whole ordeal with Amara and Chuck had them taking a minor vacation.”</p>
<p>The mention of Sam and Dean ignited a tiny flicker of excitement, especially for Dean, but it extinguished quickly at Jody’s mention of the not-apocalpyse. She slouched and plopped her head back into her hand. “I’d hate to pull them back into hunting, then. Those boys deserve some time off.”</p>
<p>“Oh no,” Jody snorted. “They want back in. At least, Dean does. He called me a few days ago to vent about how he’s been dumped by some girl he was seeing in town, and grumbling about being bored.” </p>
<p>“Dean was seeing someone?” Claire said, her face twisted in disgust. “Him? <em>Dating?</em>”</p>
<p>Jody tipped her head from side to side and shrugged. “Weeeell...I’d say he kind of tripped and fell on top of her more than once and then was surprised when she broke off the relationship he didn’t even really know they had. The boy is a sharp hunter, but kind of thick about other stuff.”</p>
<p>“Idiot,” Claire laughed, reaching between the women to snatch up the last banana in their fruit bowl. With that, she spun on her heel and left the room, heading back upstairs to no-doubt sleuth some more cases. </p>
<p>Donna and Jody looked at each other.</p>
<p>“She’s spending too much time around you,” Donna joked.</p>
<p>Jody’s lips twisted into a wobbly smirk and she scrunched her fingers in her hair, making her bed-head worse. “Yeah. Well. My glowing personality is contagious, I guess.”</p>
<p>Despite the dull ache in her chest because of her breakup, Donna’s face split into another grin. She reached over and poked Jody’s shoulder. “You’re a ray a’ sunshine to<em> me</em>, Jodes.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah,” Jody said with a roll of her eyes. Although, a tiny smile tugged on the corner of her mouth and she got up from the stool again, gesturing to the stove. “You up for breakfast?”</p>
<p>Donna tipped her head back as she drained her mug of the last drops of coffee...sweet, sweet coffee. She coughed a bit and shook the mug at Jody. “Darn tootin’, but only if it’s greasy and comes with another cup a’ joe.”</p>
<p>Jody clapped Donna on the shoulder as she walked by, beelining for the fridge. “Greasy eggs and bacon, and a hot cup of life blood for you, then. I’ll get that taken care of while you go upstairs and shower—you’ll feel better after a good, hot shower. And then,” she finished off, turning away from the contents of her fridge to point upstairs, “call Dean Winchester and get those ghosts taken care of. I don’t like <em>ghosts</em> too close to my jurisdiction.”</p>
<p>Donna saluted Jody and slid off her stool, retreating from the kitchen. Not much arguin’ with that.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Ghosts, huh?” Dean asked, clicking his tongue. He adjusted the phone against his ear and leaned against the wall of the war room by the stairs, staring at his socked foot as he absentmindedly toed all the shoes by the door into a line. “I mean, sounds like ghosts to me.”</p>
<p>“Oh yah,” Donna said over the phone, sounding sure as shit. “Claire was rip-roarin’ to go herself. Wouldn’t’a been surprised if she’d McGuiver’d a proton-pack from doo-dads in her room.”</p>
<p>Recalling the EMF meter he’d made from a walkman when he was younger, Dean smiled fondly. “If those were legit, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had. The girl is kind of a genius—though don’t tell her. I know Jody is kinda struggling with keeping her nose out of hunting while the semester is going. How did Claire’s exam go anyway?”</p>
<p>“It’s on Monday, so we’ll see.” Donna paused. “So y’don’t kill ghosts with proton packs? What a shame. I was really hopin’ those were a thing. Gotta admit, I never hunted no ghost before. Ganked me some vetalas, a few vamps, and a werewolf with Jodes, but y’know...I’m still learning.”</p>
<p>Dean smiled at the neat row of shoes. “Ah, don’t sweat it. I’ll teach you the ways of the elders, young padawan.”</p>
<p>Donna’s hearty chuckle came out tinny in Dean’s ear. “Don’t let Sam hear you bein’ a nerd, there, Dean. It’d ruin the macho bad-boy image you’ve convinced all the ladies you’ve got.” Again, she paused. “By the way, on the topic...I, uh, heard about your breakup.”</p>
<p>The smile faded on his lips and Dean raised his head, narrowing his eyes at Sam, who sat in the study with Eileen, signing to her in a way that was obviously gross flirting, even if Dean couldn’t understand everything just yet. The goo-goo eyes and blushing was a dead give-away. “Sam told you, didn’t he? And it <em>wasn’t a breakup</em>! I just...had a thing with someone. More than once. Kinda… Okay, kinda consistently or whatever, but we weren’t <em>together</em>. She just—I mean, she—”</p>
<p>“Don’t pull a muscle, Dean,” Donna jested, though the mirth was missing in her voice. That set alarm bells off in Dean’s head.</p>
<p>He pushed off the wall and walked into the kitchen, lowering his voice. “What’s up? How’ve things been with you? You sound kinda…”</p>
<p>“Bummed,” Donna supplied gloomily. “I, uh… Well, speakin’ of breakups; Doug—the other one, the new one—he kind of...um…Well, he didn’t want...”</p>
<p>The alarm bells got louder as Donna's voice took on a distinctively thick quality. “Hey,” he interrupted, not needing her to finish her sentence. “Fuck ‘em. Who needed him anyway? You know what, Don,” he infused a chuckle into his voice, “now we know; Dougs are off limits.”</p>
<p>To his relief, Donna laughed, easing the tension in his chest and making him feel warm in a way only Donna could do. Dean leaned on the metal island in his kitchen, staring out unseeingly at the war room and holding the phone between his ear and shoulder.</p>
<p>“Too right,” she laughed breathily, sniffing sharply immediately afterwards. “Yer too right. Shoulda come to you for advice beforehand.”</p>
<p>“Hell yes, girl. I would’ve told you that. Dougs? Douchebags.”</p>
<p>“You <em>are</em> wise, Elder Winchester.”</p>
<p>Dean smiled again against the phone and stared at his hands as he picked at his nails. “Pick you up in a five, six hours? We can grab a couple hotel rooms in town and then get crackin’ in the morning. I’ll buy you post-breakup waffles.”</p>
<p>“What did I do to deserve you?” Donna asked with a fond tone in her voice that Dean much preferred to the gloomy undertone of earlier. “D’you think it’ll take long? The case, I mean. I got work on Tuesday.”</p>
<p>“Ghosts?” Dean pondered, tapping at the counter and pouting at the ceiling. “Ah, give or take a day or two. We should have you back in Sioux Falls by Monday night.”</p>
<p>“Peachy-keen,” Donna replied. “Be back in time for work and to hear all about Claire’s exam.”</p>
<p>“There you go,” Dean said. He pushed off the counter and walked over to the pantry, rifling around for a few snacks he could take with him on the road. “All right, kiddo. See you later.”</p>
<p>They hung up, though Dean stared down at his phone for a moment, standing in the open pantry, a scowl on his lips. <em>Fuck Doug</em>, he thought bitterly. He’d known Donna for a little over a year now and she’d never been anything but bright, bubbly, and a pleasure to be around. She had a warm way of weaseling her way into people’s hearts. Dean had always instinctively put up an act around women, something he was sure his dad had drilled into him in some way, whether it was purposeful or not. Dean had been getting better over the years, trying to shake off ideals he thought were natural, but turned out to be entirely a matter of nurture and manifestation of masculine ideals from men around him. But Donna had a way, much like Charlie, of making Dean feel like he didn’t owe them anything but his authentic self. He never felt judged around her, and rather, felt appreciated for his personality. Things he’d consider vulnerable or too human never felt that way in front of Donna or Charlie. They were warm, caring friends that Dean would protect with his life.</p>
<p>So <em>fuck Doug.</em></p>
<p>Next time he was in Minnesota, he was going to T-P his house. Fucker.</p>
<p>Dumping <em>Donna</em>. The nerve.</p>
<p>“Hey.”</p>
<p>Dean looked up from his phone, peering over his shoulder at Sam, who was fighting a smirk and standing in the middle of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. </p>
<p>“Sup?” Dean asked, sliding his phone into his back pocket and turning towards his brother.</p>
<p>Sam gestured to where Dean’s phone disappeared. “Heard you on the phone. Was that Jody?”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Dean replied, stepping out of the pantry snack-less, closing the door behind him. “Donna. Claire found a case of ghosts haunting a bunch of apartment residents. Wants us to handle it.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Sam’s face fell a bit, but he quickly smiled again, sliding his hands in his pockets. “Right. Okay. Yeah, I mean, we could.”</p>
<p>The last few weeks, since they’d saved the world <em>again, </em>Sam had re-connected with Eileen, the hunter they’d met last year. The last near-apocalypse with the whole Chuck-Amara business had left a resounding sense of <em>exhaustion </em>in the brothers. Another crisis averted, another opportunity to appreciate that nothing was permanent, and as Sam had said afterwards, they perhaps should appreciate the smaller things because it could all end abruptly. It was why they’ve laid low lately. They were on a ‘vacation’ from hunting full-time. For Dean, that meant trying to do things he thought were fun; hang out with the locals, go to the bar, have a fling with a local girl that crashed and burned and <em>sucked</em>. For Sam, that meant Eileen.</p>
<p>She’d reached out to them a few days after the not-apocalypse to do a hunt. Dean had been in his I’m-going-to-sleep-for-days phase at that point, mentally and physically exhausted from nearly soul-bombing himself to death to save the world. Near-death, self-sacrificing experiences always took a lot out of him, to say the least. Sam had taken the case, accompanying Eileen on a vampire hunt. </p>
<p>They’d been inseparable since.</p>
<p>It’d been over a month, but Dean could safely say either she’d moved into the bunker because of increasing rent prices, or those idiots were in love.</p>
<p>Cas certainly seemed to think so. Only a week or two after she started showing up more frequently at the bunker, the angel had muttered something to Dean about how Sam and Eileen’s souls seem to ‘glow for each other’, whatever the fuck that meant. All Dean knew? Sam somehow had a suspiciously decent grasp at basic sign language and he hadn’t known that a year ago. It meant he’d been practicing…</p>
<p>“You don’t have to come on the hunt, Sam,” Dean said, not mentioning that he’d already kind of assumed Sam wasn’t coming. Dean thrust a thumb in the general direction of the library. “I know you and Eileen got stuff going on.”</p>
<p>To Dean’s amusement, Sam looked flustered, gesturing vaguely with both hands towards the library as well. “I mean, if you need me, I’ll come. I just—we, uh, kind of are researching a case already.”</p>
<p>Dean’s eyebrows raised.</p>
<p>“I-we were going to tell you. We just found it last night at like 3am, and—”</p>
<p>“Sam Winchester? Up at 3am?” Dean mocked, smirking as he walked out of the kitchen, turning towards the bedrooms and making his way towards his, intent on packing for his trip. “Whatever could you have been doing so late? Hope you were wearing protection.”</p>
<p>Sam followed, making choking-scoffing noises. “Dude.”</p>
<p>Dean grinned, waving over his shoulder. “It’s fine, Sam, chill. You and Eileen do your thing here. Work on your ‘case’. I’m heading north to help Donna out with a few ghosts. From the sounds of it, it’s routine stuff. Should be back by Tuesday.”</p>
<p>“Tuesday?” Sam asked, scowling. “You think it’ll take you that long to gank a few routine ghosts?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Dean said, turning into his room and ducking down to pull his duffle from under his bed, “Donna’s boyfriend kind of dumped her, so I figure I’d hang out for a bit. Buy her a few drinks, let her drown her sorrows, gank a few ghosts on the way. Maybe find out Doug’s address so I could switch out his shampoo with Nair.”</p>
<p>Sam leaned on the door frame and winced. “Ah, that sucks. I didn’t know that. She okay?”
</p>
<p>Dean stood, groaning as his knees cracked loudly. As he walked over to his dresser, tugging open the top drawer, he replied, “Ah, dunno. Her voice got all wobbly on the phone so I’m assuming no.”</p>
<p>“I should go with you.”</p>
<p>Throwing a handful of socks into his bag, Dean glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. “Try saying that again, but next time, like you mean it. Don’t sound like I’m trying to force you to go watch Die Hard with me when you’d rather watch The Notebook.”</p>
<p>“Ha, ha. Very funny. Also, you <em>love </em>The Notebook. When the old couple die in bed together at the end, you always have to ‘go for a drive’ after. As if Cas and I don’t know you’re going to have a cry.”</p>
<p>Dean scoffed, his jaw dropping open. Wide-eyed, he pointed at Sam with a handful of underwear. “Shut your fucking face, Sam. Don’t pretend like you're immune to that ending. You always preface that movie with ‘oh, I have bad allergies today’, as if that’s fooling anyone. I raised you, Sammy, I know you don’t have <em>allergies</em>. Please.”</p>
<p>Sam  stood up straight, shrugging and flipping his hair out of his face. “Whatever.”</p>
<p>“Even Cas complains about chest pains and ‘sinus pressure’ after that movie,” Dean said with a laugh and a flutter in his stomach. “Dumb angel.”</p>
<p>Sam laughed at that.</p>
<p>Dean turned back to his task, opening the next drawer and rifling through rolls of t-shirts. “I’ll make sure to leave you and Eileen ample supplies; salt, holy water, silver, a few condoms.” He looked up and grinned. “The condoms are for <em>after </em>your hunt. For the million times, don’t wear them during the hunt, Sam, it’s weird and baddies usually don’t notice anyway.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you, jerk,” Sam snapped, exiting the bedroom, but not before flipping Dean the middle finger. “You’re an idiot.”</p>
<p>Chuckling to himself and sniffing a pair of jeans before tossing them into his duffle, Dean called out, “Happy fucking, bitch!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Welcome to Minnesota</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“These,” Dean said thickly, his mouth full of saccharine strawberry jam, sweet cream, and hearty pastry, “are the best waffles in the state.”</p>
<p>As expected on a Sunday morning, Dean and Donna were surrounded by a busy patronage at the small waffle house. All booths were full, tables crowded by families and hungover people alike, as well as hungry hikers who were on their way to the national park nearby.  The retro theme to the diner had pops of white and red, and the waiters and waitresses skated around on rollerblades. On their trays, they carried thick, frothy milkshakes and plates piled high with stacks of pancakes.</p>
<p>“Mmmm,” Donna agreed, her brown eyes rolling back under her lids as her lashes fluttered, “M’god, D’n. Delish.”</p>
<p>“Knew you’d like ‘em,” Dean declared with a puffy-cheeked grin, waggling his fork at her. He swallowed. “Got great reviews online, and if I remember right, I stopped here with my dad when I was in high school. Had some field trip to Badlands National Park, but he forgot to sign my permission form ‘cause...well, he was never around. But—” Dean raised a finger, trying to brighten the mood that he’d accidentally dampened. “—day of, he found out I stayed behind and decided to drive me here himself to catch up with the class. It was like, one of the few cool dad-things he did for me.”</p>
<p>Donna winced, and wiped icing powder from the corner of her lips on the sleeve of her bright blue hoodie. “Your dad, what happened to him? You mention him in passing, but yah never told me…”</p>
<p>Dean waited until their waitress passed and then he admitted with a lightness in his tone he still didn’t feel in his heart, even after ten years. “Car accident got him. Well, got us, really. Sam, dad, and I were plowed into by a transport truck. The Impala was totalled, we were all hospitalized. I...I was dying and my dad sold his soul to a demon to save me.”</p>
<p>The pace of Donna’s chewing slowed and she swallowed thickly. With a wince around her eyes, she said, “Sorry, Dean.” Then, with a blink, “Wait, he did what to...to what?”</p>
<p>Dean grinned at her look of utter confusion. “Do you really want to know?”</p>
<p>“No,” she decided, waving her fork at him before spearing it through a plump strawberry and dragging it through whipped cream. “You Winchesters are nutso.”</p>
<p>Only Donna could call him, his brother, and his dead dad nutso and still be charming. </p>
<p>To her credit though, she did look up and add, “You miss ‘im?”</p>
<p>That thought had Dean pausing, a forkful of syrup-soaked pancake hovering in front of his mouth. </p>
<p><em>Yes. Maybe.</em> “Nah,” Dean decided, a strange sense of calmness setting his chest. He waved the fork a bit, then flashed Donna a crooked smile. “I used to, but getting older I kinda realise how badly he fucked us up. Our mom never wanted us to get into hunting, and can’t say I blame her. My dad went kinda crazy with hunting down the demon that killed her, and uh, he ended up being a shitty dad because of it. Left us alone for weeks, left me to raise Sam while he did hunts and fucked his way through grieving widows and diner waitresses. He yelled a lot and treated us more like soldiers than kids. Can’t say he was the best role model either. Ten years after he died and I’m still trying to shake off the shit he taught me.”</p>
<p>Donna stared at him.</p>
<p>Dean realised he’d gone off on an unsolicited tangent and paused, flashing her a toothy grin. Opening his arms, he tried to derail the conversation. “But who gives a shit? He’s dead and we got waffles. So ghosts, huh? Ready to gank Casper the creepy ghost? We gotta come up with covers to get into the apartments. I was thinking either FBI or pest control.”</p>
<p>“Oh boy,” Donna breathed, looking overwhelmed, but excited, if her tiny smile was anything to go by. She pushed away her plate and wrapped her fingers around the mug of coffee in front of her. “I have qualms ‘bout impersonating high-level law enforcement, seein’ as I’m still in my state, ya know?”</p>
<p>Dean pointed at her and winked. “Got it. Pest control it is.”</p>
<p>“Yer too good to me,” she laughed, her hearty chuckle warming his heart. He’d expected her to be all heart broken and mopey, and while her eyes didn’t carry as much sparkle as usual, in true Donna-style, she grinned through her pain, her dimples sinking into rosy cheeks. “Dressin’ up is fun! If you ever do a hunt at a hospital, you better call me, Dean. I want to work a case where I gotta dress up like a doctor. I always wanted to be one when I was a little girl.”</p>
<p>“No dreams of doing pest control?” Dean teased, raising a brow at her over his coffee as he raised it to his lips.</p>
<p>“No, no, not recently at least,” she chuckled. “I just have a thing for doctors, I think.”
</p>
<p>“Don’t get me started,” Dean sighed. “Throw a pair of cowboy boots under those scrubs and I’m right there with you on the doctor front.”</p>
<p>Speaking of the sparkle in Donna’s eye, it returned from the depths of what seemed to be her soul and she leaned forward, her wavy, messy hair narrowing missing the creamy coffee filling her mug. “You watch Doctor Sexy?”</p>
<p>Dean scoffed. “Do I watch Doctor Sexy? Hell yes, girl. All nine seasons. They’re on a mid-season hiatus and I’ve been itchin’ to know what happened to Doctor Sexy and the nurse intern. Did they think they could just raise her from the dead and have her shoot Doctor McSmoulder in the chest and then just <em>have me wait patiently for three weeks </em>for the next episode<em>?</em>” Dean picked up his spoon, scooped up some whipped cream, and licked it with a flourish. “Fuckin’ rude, those showrunners.”</p>
<p>“Oh!” Donna raised her hands at her shoulder, eyes wide, her head nodding a mile a minute. “Oh, you betcha. When he fell to his knees and they cut to black? Nearly had me a stroke. Nearly threw my TV out the window.”</p>
<p>“That show gave me a complex,” Dean went on, tapping his spoon against his lips. “Now I have a cowboy boot and lab coat fetish.”</p>
<p>Donna threw her head back and laughed heartily before she chortled, “Dean, you have no idea. I love cowboy boots. Ooo, for a while there, that show got me havin’ real big cowboy fantasties, y’know?” She leaned in and whispered, “Always wanted a man dressed like a cowboy to tear off my scrubs and—” </p>
<p>“More coffee?” a waitress asked sweetly, sliding to a stop beside their table, wiggling her brows and tapping at the side of a coffee pot. </p>
<p>Donna and Dean grinned at each other as the waitress topped up their drinks. As soon as she left, Donna carried on. “Dougie always used to make fun of me for that. He…”</p>
<p>She seemed to slouch as her ex’s name and she leaned back, away from Dean, her back hitting the puffy red seat. </p>
<p>Dean looked away awkwardly, then scooped up a bit of whipped cream and offered the spoon to her. “Try this. It’s great. Noticed you didn’t get any, and I can’t let you leave without trying some.”</p>
<p>Donna accepted the spoon with a bit of surprise written on her face. But she took it and licked at the cream. “Mmmm. So good. I’ve been… You know, tryna lose a bit of weight. Doug… He…”</p>
<p>He could tell she wanted to talk about it. After swallowing a bit and busying himself with tapping some sugar into his coffee, Dean asked, “What happened with him anyway?”</p>
<p>“Oh, ya know,” she laughed mirthlessly, waving a hand, her knuckles white around the spoon. “The usual. Long distance was too much, the sex wasn’t the best any more…  He said I’m always puttin’ myself down, and he said I’m not over my ex.” Donna exhaled heavily and then added with a bit of defiance, “I am <em>over </em>my ex, okay? He just...just...left me with alotta baggage!”</p>
<p>“Fuck ‘em,” Dean said, echoing his sentiment from their call yesterday. “He doesn’t know shit about you then, clearly. Who needs ‘em, huh?”</p>
<p>Donna raised her mug, and Dean winked with a nod, clinking his mug against hers. </p>
<p>“Cheers to that,” Donna agreed. They both took hearty gulps, and after she swallowed, she declared, “You know what, Dean? I’m swearin’ off datin’. I’m riding solo.”</p>
<p>“Amen to that,” Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Right there with you. So remember how you asked about that breakup when we were on the phone? Yeah, so, accidentally started seeing this girl in town and she dumped me in front of everyone.”</p>
<p>“<em>No!”</em></p>
<p>“Yes. Told me I was emotionally unavailable and then left me with my tail between my legs right out front of the bar.” </p>
<p>“Oh, Dean.”</p>
<p>It was Dean’s turn to wave it off, though his hand hit the table a bit harder than he intended. “Nah, you know, it’s fine. The dating thing kinda happened by accident, and shame on me for not making it clearer what we were, you know? Fuck it. Hunters aren’t meant for relationships anyway. This shit is dangerous—” He began ticking off points on his fingers. “—and scary. Hunters can’t make meaningful connections. Monsters use people we love against us, and we’re always travelling, and with the scammy shit we do to live, there ain’t no settling down. I mean, sure, it works for some people; like you, Jody. Hell, even Bobby had a business. But Sam and I? Not in the cards.”</p>
<p>Donna’s lips twisted in puzzlement. “Isn’t Sam datin’ that girl? Jody was sayin’ something about…”</p>
<p>“Right,” Dean paused. His cheeks heated up, the fire in his chest dimming a bit. Right. He kind of forgot shit had changed since Amara. “Right,” he repeated, giving his head a little shake. “I mean, the doom and gloom has faded since that crap that happened a few weeks ago. Well, I guess over a month ago now. I guess...maybe it’s in the cards.” With a scowl, Dean corrected, “It’s in the cards for <em>Sam</em>. He’s always been good at detaching himself from hunting. He...compartmentalizes, or whatever it’s called. Me? I never had a regular life, not really, not even when I tried once. I wouldn’t know where to start, and I don’t know who I am without hunting. I…” </p>
<p>“Am emotionally unavailable?” Donna offered, her lips spreading into a toothy, crooked smile, and her eyes narrowing into a cheeky wink.</p>
<p>Dean tried to glare at her, but they both broke into low giggles.</p>
<p>“Shut it, D-Train.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“It’s just that—” Dean paused his rant to fire off salt-rounds right into their ghosts’ chest. “—I’m not <em>built </em>for long-term relationships. People <em>die </em>around me, I—ooh, Donna, behind you!”</p>
<p>Donna’s hair whipped him in the face as she spun on the spot, ducking to the ground as Dean raised his sawed-off and blasted the second ghost away, the salt-rounds shattering a picture frame behind him on the brickwall of the apartment they’d broken into. </p>
<p>“Good call!” Donna said, jumping to her feet and brandishing the iron bar she had in her hands. She and Dean ran into the next room, sliding on ecto-plasm and catching themselves on the back of a loveseat. Two ghosts materialized on their side of them, and Dean and Donna pushed off each other’s backs, launching into their individual offensive strikes.</p>
<p>Donna cried out in a strangled grunt as she swung her weapon straight through the ghost, who disappeared with a scream and a puff of smoke. Behind her, Dean was shoved into the couch by the spirit of a man in a medical gown, going head over heels over the back of the love seat when his knees got caught.</p>
<p>“Dean!” Donna cried out, turning on the spot, her eyes wide. “You okay?”</p>
<p>Dean got to his feet, brushing off the non-existent dirt on his knees. “No! I mean, I think I am? I’ve been rejected before but I think she coulda been nicer about it. Like, send me a text or something—”</p>
<p>“I meant falling,” Donna clarified, walking around the couch and gesturing to the wall they’d smashed to pieces ten minutes earlier. “You think the bones are in there? Should we salt and burn them?”</p>
<p>Nodding, and then shaking his head, Dean choked out, “Oh, yeah, right. Hah, yup. That’s where the crazy doctor said he’d stashed their bones. I mean, right? Do you still have the pages from his diary?”</p>
<p>Donna reached in her back pocket, yanking out the crumpled old paper they’d found in the library’s rare books stacks. “Uh...room 4B, it’s where his office used to be. Yup...yup. I feel like we should’ve confirmed that before we took a couple a’ sledge hammers to the wall, but if the blueprints were right, then they’ll be in there—”</p>
<p>“YOU’LL NEVER BANISH US. THIS IS OUR RESTING PLACE. WE WILL—” The ghosts, who appeared on their side of Donna and ripped the paper in her hand to shreds, shrieked and pushed her to the ground, one kicking the back of her knees, the other tangling their mangled fingers in her hair. </p>
<p>But with two blasts of salt rounds from Dean, Donna gasped as they released her, their hands disappearing. When she jerked her head up, Dean’s eyes were narrowed and the end of his gun was smoking.</p>
<p>“Thanks. Y’saved my keister!” Donna breathed, giving Dean a thumbs up. She picked up the iron bar she’d dropped and pointed at the wall. “Let’s salt and burn their remains before my ass gets kicked anymore and—”</p>
<p>“And you know,” Dean went on, waggling his gun at the ceiling and truding over to the duffel they’d dropped near the broken-down wall earlier, bending over to pull out a bag of salt and some gasoline, “now that I think about it more, Sam’s able to compartmentalize because he got out of the life, you know? He went to college and got to learn about relationships like regular people. Dude probably got to experiment, you know?”</p>
<p>Donna stood behind him, blinking, her weapons at her side. </p>
<p>Dean looked over his shoulder at her as he got up, grunting as he heaved a gallon of gasoline at his hip, resting it there as he added, “So he can separate the life and learn how to <em>do </em>relationships. Me? I was raised in a car and my role models for ideal relationships were my parents—who fought a lot when I was a kid—and then a bunch of chicks my dad hooked up with on hunts. Even Bobby’s wife was dead as fuck, so really, I have no business gettin’ into long-term jack-shit, right?”</p>
<p>Donna walked up beside him, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. “Sing it, sister.”</p>
<p>Shaking gasoline behind the wall through the gaping, ruined hole they’d created with sledgehammers earlier, Dean laughed bitterly. “Fuck it. I’ll just kick it on my own, and fuck once in a while, and then die alone. A true hunter, you know? A fate for a hunter like everyone always warned me. I’m just pissed because—” He shook his head, accepting the bag of salt as Donna passed it to him. “—like, Amara is God’s sister. She should’ve known the thing I need the most was like...I dunno, like nine lives or some shit, like a cat? Or a gun with unlimited ammo. Or superhuman strength like Superman. Something useful for hunting. Not, like, a normal-ass life without cosmic bullshit. I’m Dean-fuckin’-Winchester,” he said, looking at Donna with wide eyes, pausing in his task to purse his lips and poke himself in the chest, “I’m destined to deal with cosmic bullshit. It’s kinda my schtick—” His brows went up. “Lighter?”</p>
<p>“Oh!” Donna exclaimed, with a small laugh. “Right.” </p>
<p>After patting at her pockets, Donna tugged out a zippo Dean had given her earlier in order to start a small fire on the main floor that would distract building management. As Dean set aside the salt and red plastic gallon jug, Donna leaned on the intact-part of the brick wall and smiled softly. “I’m right there with ya, Dean. Not on the cosmic bull-poop front, but ya know…” She shrugged, sighing at the ceiling. “The being alone thing. I think maybe that’s best. I’m too busy. Too jaded.”</p>
<p>Dean tossed the lighter into the hole in the wall and exhaled through his nose, eyes looking far-away as the flames caught somewhere in the walls a few floors down. Still, the fire glowed orange through the hole.</p>
<p>They both stared wistfully into it. Somewhere in the distance, they heard roars of rage and sorrow. In the apartment, the air shifted, the stench of fear lifting away. The ghosts were gone.</p>
<p>“I think we got ‘em,” Dean muttered.</p>
<p>Donna nodded, gazing into the flickering warm light. “Gonna miss fallin’ in love. That was the best part, I think.”</p>
<p>Dean ducked to shove their supplies back into their duffel, saying with a snort, “Yeah. Uh, I mean...no. Well, kinda. Wait, no. It sucks. It hurts, it—”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The ear-splitting, roaring sirens from firetrucks deafened them for a moment, and both Dean and Donna physically recoiled as they drove by. The fire engine was heading in the opposite direction, back towards the building they’d just partially set aflame.</p>
<p>Dean was still going on, his rant barely ended. “And you know, feelings suck. Falling in love? It <em>sucks</em>.” he declared, adjusting the strap of their bag over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>“Amen to that,” Donna said with a chuckle as she patted at her pockets and found a granola bar. Famished, she wrenched at the wrapper and took a big bite.</p>
<p>“I had a crush on this one other person—-well, not really a person, but—well, kinda…” Dean went quiet only to quickly step aside, making room for police who were running towards the building.</p>
<p>“Anyway,” he continued, shaking his head, “I had a crush on this person for three whole fucking years and nothing came off it, because they had feelings for me and I had feelings for them—”</p>
<p>“Were these huntin’ years?”</p>
<p>Dean shot Donna a sidelong glance and laughed, “Donna, they were all hunting years.”</p>
<p>“Just checkin’. Go on.”</p>
<p>They turned a corner into an alleyway where the Impala was parked at the end, shining at them in the mid-afternoon high sun. </p>
<p>“But we knew we couldn’t ever act on them because shit would get ruined between us. It sucked! But Sex?” Deans eyebrows shot up, and he chuckled in a way that might’ve been creepy to anyone else. “Sex is easier! You to a little flirty, do a little dancey, maybe get a little drunky if you’re in the mood, then boom, in, out, done.”</p>
<p>Donna tossed her head back, moaning, her messy ponytail flapping out against her back. Lifting her face to the sky, she groaned, “Oh, I miss sex! Doug and I—the first one,” she clarified, “—used to have sex all the time before we got married! Then it was, ‘oh, you’re too fat’, ‘oh, you love to deepthroat cookie dough but not me’. And then other Doug never wanted to have sex at all! It was always cuddles, and trivia night with his boys, and before I got a chance to make a move, he’d been asleep. I just miss it so much, you know?”</p>
<p>They reached the Impala, and Donna rested her hip against the side as Dean wrenched open the trunk, swinging their supplies into the truck.</p>
<p>“Why is sex so complicated?” Dean asked, slamming the trunk closed, his face pinched. “Feelings always happen, and then I gotta leave and I get guilty, and Sam gives me shit for never calling girls back, but that just complicates stuff, and—”</p>
<p>They both opened their doors and swung onto the front bench, the Impala buckling under their weight. “Yeah!” Donna agreed with gusto. “Claire was tellin’ me about casual sex, and I think that’s a great idea.”</p>
<p>Dean started the car, but glanced over at Donna with his brows raised and a smirk. “Claire? I always said she was a smart kid.” </p>
<p>Donna grabbed a microfiber cloth from the glove compartment and began rubbing at some ectoplasm she’d gotten on her jeans as Dean pulled out of the alleyway, stopping to wait for more firetrucks to zoom by them in the street. “I gotta find me someone who just wants to have sex with me, and not expect anything more,” she pondered. “I am not in a place for a relationship right now, but orgasms? I could do with a coupla orgasms. I just need someone who will give me that, and be direct about what they want, none of that awkward dancing around—”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Typically, no one was allowed to sit on the trunk of the Impala except for him and Sam. And sometimes Cas, if Dean was in a good mood. But Donna was given permission. Also, the night was nice and there was no seating inside In-N-Out, and Dean needed to sit close to her to peer over at her phone screen.</p>
<p>“What about this one?” Donna asked, turning the screen towards him so Dean could have a good look at the next guy she’d swiped towards on the freshly-created Tinder account they’d made for her while in line inside.</p>
<p>“Nah,” Dean said, his voice muffled and thick as he struggled to swallow a mouthful of fries. Despite that, his hand rifled inside the fry bag in his lap blindly. “His display picture is of him holding a fish. Don’t trust any dude who has pics of himself holding a fish, wearing a hockey jersey, or posing in the bathroom mirror with their shirts off.”</p>
<p>Donna slurped on her smoothie and made a wobbly-groaning noise of distress. “This feels wrong. Judgin’ people based on their looks? Shoppin’ for suitable humans to boink with? Dean, maybe this isn’t for me.”</p>
<p>“Just swipe left and let me be the judgy one then.”</p>
<p>Reluctantly, Donna did so and they both made twin noises of disagreement.</p>
<p>“Neckbeard and a fedora?” Dean grimace. “Pass.”</p>
<p>“That’s it,” Donna declared, locking her phone and sliding it into her jacket pocket. With a look of defeat, she leaned over and took a big bite of her cheeseburger over the wrapper in her lap. When she chewed and swallowed, she muttered mopily, “I can’t bump uglies with men who fish, or like hockey, so that eliminates all of Minnesota, and I don’t like shoppin’ for humans, it feels icky. And...y’know, I don’t know how I feel about casual sex with strangers anyway. I’d like a...a buddy, y’know? Someone I could just have repeat sex with, someone who I could communicate with, easy-like. No strings, but...<em>fun</em>, ya know? But no. I’ll just...have sex with myself forever.”</p>
<p>Dean watched her take another depressed bite from her burger, eyeing the smudge of grease on her lip, and he reached over, curling his arm around her shoulder. “Ah, cut that out. Come on, D-Train. I’m sure there’s someone out there who would <em>love </em>to be fuck buddies with you. Someone who’s relaxed, and respectful, and who cares about you, but <em>not in that way</em>, you know?”</p>
<p>“That’d be swell,” Donna sighed, staring down sadly, watching a couple seagulls drop kick each other over half of a wrinkled french fry on the pavement.</p>
<p>Dean watched the seagulls, too. </p>
<p>Then…</p>
<p>Dean and Donna both looked up.</p>
<p>Unsure of who looked at who first, their eyes wide, Dean blurted out, “Why don't...<em>we</em> have sex?”</p>
<p>To his chagrin, Donna raised a hand to her mouth, hovering it a few inches away, a surprised chuckle blurting out from between her lips. “You? And <em>me</em>? <em>You</em>….having sex with me?”</p>
<p>Dean reached across her and snatched up the smoothie they were both sharing, shoving the straw in the corner of his mouth and asking, “Why’d you say it like that?”</p>
<p>Donna’s eyes stayed wide, but her hand lowered. This time, her mouth was gaping, and she wasn’t laughing, perhaps realising he wasn’t joking. “You’re…” She waved at him. “Like, a ten! An eleven, even! And me, I’m…”</p>
<p>“Also an eleven?” Dean offered, sounding like it was obvious, sounding aghast. He slurped hard on the smoothie, rolling it around in his mouth for a second before he gulped and asked breathlessly, “Why shouldn’t we have sex?”</p>
<p>“We’re friends, fer starts!” Donna laughed, her head seemingly to shake from side to side with pure disbelief. “<em>That’s</em> why.”</p>
<p>“Friends with benefits. Come on, Dons! Think about it; we both don’t have time for a relationship, we both just want sex, we’re both busy, and we both know about The Life? I wouldn’t have to explain anything to you, and you won’t have to explain shit to me. We get each other. We—”</p>
<p>As he spoke, Donna’s brows raised, but her eyes lost that wide, skeptical look to them. As a matter of fact, Donna looked like she was considering it. “Well...we are friends so I wouldn’t have to worry about my body… It’d be about mutual—” she lowered her voice. “—pleasure, and not about moanin’ like a porn star or archin’ my back all weird...”</p>
<p>“Donna. Listen. This is perfect.” Dean hopped off the back of the Impala, setting down his fries and smoothie. He clapped his hands together, his eyes twinkling. “<em>You</em> wanna get fucked by a cowboy while you're dressed like a doctor, and <em>I</em> wanna fuck a doctor while dressed up like a cowboy. It’s fucking perfect!”</p>
<p>Donna was gaping at him again. She narrowed her eyes and he tapped his clasped hands against his lips, half-wincing, half-looking hopeful. </p>
<p>“That’s coco-loco, Dean,” Donna laughed suddenly, the noise sounding nearly delirious. “You’re outta my league. I-I-I mean, look at you—” She jutted an open palm at him, blinking hard. “You’re, like, really hot, Dean. Like, really hot, and I’m the girl with thunder thighs and Doug said I love cookie-dough milkshakes more than I—”</p>
<p>“Oh, fuck Doug!” Dean exclaimed, snapping his hands to his hips in annoyance. He snapped his fingers at her and barked, “You. You are a fuckin’ ten, an eleven, Donna. You know who loves big thighs and a big ass? Me. More cushion for the pushin’ or whatever. And I’m not really hot. I got weird scars everywhere, and weirdly tiny nipples, and I got this, like, little pouch under my belly button that I don’t even know what to do with, and sometimes I throw out my back for no reason, and I got a cowlick on one side of my head that no barber knows what the fuck to do with—”</p>
<p>Donna stared at him, then pointed and interrupted. “Oh, you hush!”</p>
<p>Dean went quiet, his cheeks a bit pink. It seemed he regretted bringing up the pouch and tiny nipples. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>Donna reached up and tucked hair behind her ear, gnawing at her bottom lip. Dean was almost certain she was going to shut him down, and fuck, was it ever going to be awkward now, but then…</p>
<p>“Okay!” she said firmly, jutting a finger at him, her eyes stern. “But no emotions! Got too many of those in the rest of my life! Don’t need none of them between us, too!”</p>
<p>“Scouts honour,” Dean said, standing up straighter and crossing his fingers up by his head.</p>
<p>“You were never a scout!”</p>
<p>“Okay, I swear on my dad’s journal.”</p>
<p>“Yah swear on Sam’s life?”</p>
<p>“Even better.” Dean pointed up to his head. “I swear on Sam’s hair.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Donna whispered, mouth in an 'o' as she processed the seriousness of his oath, “that’s somethin'.”</p>
<p>“And you?” Dean turned his finger from his head towards her, pointing. “You swear on your badge?”</p>
<p>Donna nodded, tapping at her chest. “Oh, you betcha.”</p>
<p>They both stared at each other nervously, then Dean cleared his throat, tipped up his chin, and jumped back onto the trunk of the Impala to sit beside her. </p>
<p>Wordlessly, Donna handed Dean the smoothie, which he accepted and slurped on right away. She accidentally carried on eating Dean’s fries when he didn’t take them back. </p>
<p>For a few minutes, they simply watched people leave the restaurant and go back to their cars, while new patrons parked in the lot and entered.</p>
<p>“So…” Dean asked, chewing on the tip of the straw. “You...wanna have sex now?”</p>
<p>Waiting until a couple stumbled by them, squealing with excitement as they talked about getting extra cheese on literally everything they were ordering, Donna peered over at Dean.</p>
<p>“Like, in the parking lot?” </p>
<p>Dean made a raspberry noise with his lips and then gestured out into the street on the other side of the lot. “<em>No</em>, I mean, like, at your place. We’re only an hour out. It’ll take me hours to go home and it’s getting close to my bedtime…”</p>
<p>He jumped a bit when he was poked in the shoulder. Turning his head, he was met with a narrow-eyed stare from Donna. “What?”</p>
<p>She flapped a french fry at him. “You’re not inviting yourself over for a sleepover, are ya? ‘Cause sleeping over means post-sex cuddling and I don’t wanna take any chances!”</p>
<p>Dean rolled his eyes at her. “Relax, D-Train! It’ll be a perfectly platonic, non-romantic, sex-filled sleepover. We’re both on the same page, we want no-commitment sexy time.” He paused, wincing a bit before he admitted, “Though I have been known to accidentally sleep cuddle. I’ll go sleep on the couch after?”</p>
<p>Gears seemed to turn behind Donna’s eyes, then her face split into a big smile and she hopped off the Impala, clapping Dean hard on the thigh.</p>
<p>As he yelped and rubbed at his leg, Donna propped her fists at her side and she said with a grin, “Well, what are we waitin’ for then? My couch pulls out into a bed and I’ve been horny for months. Let’s go!”</p>
<p>Dean clapped his hands together and aimed two finger guns at her. “Hell yes! Let’s fuckin’ do it!”</p>
<p>In a rush, they grabbed their litter and hurried their clean up, wearing matching grins as they powerwalked around the car and jumped in.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Okie dokies!” Donna called out behind her, holding open the door of her house with her hip and toeing off her boots as Dean shimmied in behind her, hauling their duffels through the threshold of Donna’s home. Closing the door with her butt, she shrugged off her coat and announced, “Ground rules. What are our ground rules?”</p>
<p>Dean had plopped down on her sinky couch, yanking at the laces of his shoes. He looked up thoughtfully and said, “So we established no cuddling. I’m gonna go ahead and say that I’m not a fan of morning sex. Like don’t wake me up with a blowjob, it freaks me out. Also, kissing with morning breath? No thanks.”</p>
<p>“No to sleep oral, but yes to oral hygiene. Gotcha!” Donna nodded, sweeping past Dean as she yanked her sweater over her head, struggling for a moment to tug it around her pony-tail. Dean’s eyes lingered on the sliver of exposed tummy as her white t-shirt rode up. He noticed a small tattoo, but didn’t get a chance to see it entirely before she was yanking her shirt down.</p>
<p>“And we should be direct,” she added as a second thought. “If...If we’re gonna do this for, ya know, orgasms. Then… Then we gotta be direct.”</p>
<p>“Fair,” Dean agreed. “Any other rules? Anything I should know about...you know…”</p>
<p>Donna looked confused for a second, her mouth pouting before she tugged on a wave of hair that had fallen in her face. “Oh, a few—I don’t like my hair pulled. And I can take a spanking, but not too hard, and not on the same spot. You?”</p>
<p>Dean threw a boot aside and started working on his other, wracking his brains for things he liked and didn’t like. No one had really asked for these details outright before, and certainly not all at one time. “Hmmm.”</p>
<p>“Anything you like?” she probed, disappearing into her bedroom for a moment, ducking behind the door. A moment later, he peered up at her when she reappeared, noticing her begin to undo her pants, and return with a towel over her shoulder.</p>
<p>Inspired, he grinned and said with a wink, “Shower sex?”</p>
<p>To his surprise, Donna scowled. “Part of this deal is that we’re direct. You want shower sex, ask.”</p>
<p>Feeling like he might’ve read the towel and the undressing wrong, Dean winced. “Do you...like shower sex?”</p>
<p>“Don’t mind it,” she admitted, looking partially intrigued, though he noticed she was smiling nervously. “It’s a bit scary. Seen a lot of people with their heads cracked open because of slippery shenanigans, but there’s a handle in my tub from the last owner, so we have somewhere to hold onto for—”</p>
<p>“Leverage?” He grinned, throwing his other boot aside, nerves finally setting in as he realised perhaps he should be...undressing, too?</p>
<p>“Safety,” Donna replied with a snort. “Safety, Dean. The old owner was like, 92 years old.”</p>
<p>“What else do you like?” she asked as she took down her hair entirely, the long blonde mane falling down her shoulder on one side, entirely wild as she shook it out with one hand. </p>
<p>Here goes nothing. Dean inhaled and then admitted as he shrugged off his top layer, the flannel sliding down his arms, “I...like my nipples touched, and a slow build, and I like nails through my hair, and I fucking hate anything ear or neck related. Just…don’t lick anything around my ears or neck. I'll throw up. You? Any anti-erogenous zones I gotta know about?”</p>
<p>Snapping her hair elastic around her wrist, Donna scratched at her scalp. “Don’t like feet. You can touch me with yours, but don’t touch mine. And I don’t like a lot of rough nipple play. Soft nipple play is just fine, and I love a good boob massage like the next girl, but, oh boy—” Her face split into a grin. “—do I ever love my ass eaten!”</p>
<p>Feeling a jolt of excitement that overpowered his nerves, Dean got to his feet and snapped his fingers. “Amazing. Love mine eaten, too.”</p>
<p>“Oh, really?" Donna said, her eyes lighting up, pausing as she turned to head towards her bedroom. "That’s great news. But after showers only.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah, duh.”</p>
<p>“And I like to be eaten out from behind. Just...no goin’ from the chocolate factory to the taco truck, if you’re picking up what I’m puttin’ down.”</p>
<p>Dean grimaced. “Ew, yeah, duh. That’s unhygienic.”</p>
<p>“Okily dokily,” Donna said, after they grinned at each other for a beat too long. She turned away, pointing to her room. “I’m off to shower.”</p>
<p>“Ooo, can I join you?” Dean asked, stepping to follow her, his stomach doing a gleeful somersault.</p>
<p>However, Donna paused at the door, scowling. “Hold yer horses, there, bucko. We’re not havin’ sex in the shower the first time. That takes practice. Balance. Discipline. We’re havin' sex on the bed first like civilized folk.”</p>
<p>Taking a step back, Dean raised his hands in surrender and conceded, though his eyes did a double take of the big fluffy beanbag chair in front of her fireplace. “What about there? Kinda seems like it could be fun. Those are great for angles.”</p>
<p>Hand on the doorframe, her nails drumming against the wood, Donna appeared to be thinking about it. “Acceptable,” she decided. “I’ll be back out in five, then you can shower.” </p>
<p>He nearly punched a fist in air in victory too soon, but thankfully held back, because she turned back to him for a moment, aborting her attempt to enter her room again. Wincing, she asked, “Should I shave...y’know...the beaver?”</p>
<p>Dean waved his hand, flopping down onto the couch. “Nah. My bean pole has leaves, I’m not picky.”</p>
<p>“Great,” Donna groaned, finally disappearing into the bedroom. “‘Cause I’m outta shavin’ cream and have been growin’ out the fur coat for a reason. Welcome to Minnesota.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Fudgin' Negotiations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the fastest yet most thorough shower Dean had in a while, he emerged from Donna’s ensuite bathroom into her room to find her standing on the other side of the bed, hopping on the spot as she tried to unhook her ankle from her jeans.</p>
<p>“Need a hand over there?” he asked, his face breaking into a grin.</p>
<p>Donna caught herself on the edge of the bed, finally freeing herself from the clutches of her denim. She laughed breathily. “No, no, I think I’ll manage. So silly of me; I just started gettin’ dressed like I didn’t have sexy plans! Hah!”</p>
<p>He caught her staring at the towel around his waist that he was clutching a bit tightly. He’d put on his t-shirt, feeling strangely nervous about walking in with nothing but a towel around his waist.</p>
<p>Dean swallowed, though it was loud in the room, competing with nothing else but crickets outside and the snap of fire that Donna had lit in the living room fireplace.</p>
<p>“Should I...uh…” He gestured at his shirt. “Take this off?”</p>
<p>Donna, standing in her white t-shirt and in polka-dot underwear, glanced down at herself, and then him.</p>
<p>“Oh, um, sure,” she said weakly, gesturing flippantly at his chest. “I should take mine off too, hey? Should...we do this with the lights turned off?</p>
<p>Kneading the towel where he gripped onto it, Dean cleared his throat. “I like sex with the lights on. I dunno. You?”</p>
<p>“Lights off, usually, but that’s because Doug always wanted them off. He liked to have sex before bedtime, half-way through Larry King. And usually only when the TV was on.”</p>
<p>Dean paused, feeling butterflies smack into each other in his stomach. “I get distracted if there’s TV on, so you don’t have to worry about that. Compromise; we turn the room light off, but keep the lamps on? You got lamps in the living room, right? And the fire is going, so...”</p>
<p>With a shared, short nod, the both of them walked quickly from the bedroom, and each went to the lamps on either side of the lumpy brown couch. As soon as both chains were tugged, the room was a glowing orange, additional ambiance of course added by the fire. Donna scampered back to her room to turn off the light, and Dean found himself muttering under his breath, trying to find his confidence.</p>
<p>By the time Donna was back in the room, Dean was tugging his shirt over his head. When he escaped from the flurry of fabric and threw it aside, his shirt catching the back of her couch, Donna was standing by the fire, scratching at her head, peering at the ceiling.</p>
<p>Dean crossed his arms over his chest, feeling vulnerable, being so naked except for the towel. “Uh...so you wanna be on your back or…”</p>
<p>Her hands shaking a bit, Donna waved them at him and she said, ever in her usual friendly tone, though it shook a bit, “Whatever you want!”</p>
<p>“Donna, please. The whole deal here is we’re direct, remember?”</p>
<p>Her tight shoulders seemed to loosen and Donna exhaled a long, heavy breath, her cheeks puffing out. “Okay. I like to…” Her fingers brushed her lips. “...start off kissing. I really like kissing.”</p>
<p>The butterflies in his stomach relaxed a bit, his chest filling with warmth that only had half-to do with the crackling fire. “Kissing is pretty much my favourite part.”</p>
<p>“Okie dokies,” she exhaled, walking slowly towards the bean bag. Dean noticed her rubbing her palms at her side. “And then I really like being eaten out; soft tongue, not hard. Not until the end, then you can fuck me with it. And if you want to finger me, stick to one finger. I don’t need the whole sh-bang.” Her thumbs were hooking into the waistband of her underwear, but she paused, adding, “And not too deep; the main show is about a knuckle in.”</p>
<p>Dean nodded, and forced his hands to receive signals from his brain. They fiddled with the towel where it was tucked in at his waist. “Gotcha. Cool. You into blow jobs?”</p>
<p>To his relief, Donna’s eyes sparkled and widened a bit. She grinned, the dimple in her cheeks deepening in the firelight. “Oh yah. Actually really enjoy ‘em. I like gettin’ my hands in there and sometimes I hum!”</p>
<p>Feeling like Christmas had come early, the butterflies in his stomach be damned, Dean forgot about his towel for a second to give her thumbs up. “Awesome. That’s awesome. Just with hands, keep it held firm, but looser, ‘kay? Went through a grip-of-death phase when I was in my teens and it just...it sucked.”</p>
<p>They paused. Donna’s fingers drummed at her hips, thumbs still hooked in her underwear. Dean’s hands froze on his towel. For a strange moment, they stared at each other, the air uncertain, their faces tinted pink in the same way. Donna’s teeth gnawed on her bottom lip.</p>
<p>Then, “Kissing?” Dean asked. </p>
<p>“Heck yes,” Donna replied, releasing a held breath. They stepped towards each other, and their hands forgot about their bottoms, remaining clothed for a few minutes more.</p>
<p>As they closed the space between them, Dean swallowed hard and bit the bullet, ignoring his brain screaming, <em>where do I put my hands?!</em> And just opted for putting one on her waist, and the other hovering near her jaw. Donna went right for his face, thumbs pressed gently to his chin. </p>
<p>With barely an inch of space between them, Donna breathed, “Open mouth or closed?”</p>
<p>“Surprise me, I’m good either way.”</p>
<p>It was easier, he decided to let her take the lead. Despite feeling like most of the time he knew what he was doing, he felt an unexplainable pressure. This… </p>
<p>This was Donna. He didn’t want to mess this up.</p>
<p>“Here goes nothin’,” she breathed and then she was standing on her tip-toes, as he was over a foot taller. </p>
<p>Before he even got a chance to close his eyes, she pressed their lips together. </p>
<p>For a moment, they stayed like that.</p>
<p>Then...Dean’s hand slid around her waist, hand splayed over her t-shirt, pulling her close, closing the last few inches of nervous energy between them. Donna hummed against his mouth and her one hand slid from his face, her arm wrapping around his shoulders.</p>
<p>Dean shut his eyes and kissed her back, his mouth opening just as hers did.</p>
<p>After a bit of awkward teeth bumping, they found their rhythm and Dean accidentally exhaled in a way that sounded embarrassingly happy. Donna, to his relief, was a great kisser. Her lips were cushion-y and soft, and her breath was fresh—as was his, since there’d been a spare toothbrush so conveniently left on the counter as he’d entered the bathroom. She seemed to read him pretty damn well, because their noses didn’t bump—at least, not after the first time—and she responded perfectly to his experimental little lick. Her lips opened and her own warm tongue brushed his. </p>
<p>They both moaned at the same time when Donna lifted herself up further, crushing their lips together more, her tongue slipping into his mouth, exploring slowly, and her fingertips pressing hard into his shoulders. Dean ran his hands over her hair, uncaring about the fact that it was still wet and rather wild. As he stroked her hair, she kissed him harder, with a bit more vigour and frankly, she was kinda arching into him and that was pretty fuckin’ hot. </p>
<p>He was getting hard, and for a split second where he became too self-aware, Dean was nervous Donna would back out if he pressed his hard-on into her leg. </p>
<p>But it happened and instead of pushing him away, Donna burst into giggles against his mouth.</p>
<p>“Ooo! There it is,” she laughed, her eyes squeezing shut against his cheek.</p>
<p>Dean tipped his head back and groaned. “That is the <em>worst </em>reaction to my dick that anyone has ever had.”</p>
<p>“Oh, come on,” she whispered, chortling, “It’s my first time with your peen. It’s kinda weird, ain’t it?”</p>
<p>“Yes, but...don’t say it like ‘aw, there’s the cute little weiner’!”</p>
<p>“Sorry.” She angled her head away from his for a second, wincing. “Yer right. I’m sorry. It’s...it’s nice.”</p>
<p>“Well, now you’re just saying that because I got all weird.” Dean’s cheeks were hot and his eyes were on the ceiling. <em>Oh, god, what if this was a huge mistake…</em></p>
<p>Nope. Nope, not a mistake. Dean jumped a bit when he felt the top of her bare thigh graze his half-hard dick, and he looked down quickly, catching her eye.</p>
<p>Donna stared up at him, and he felt a rush of heat straight to his balls as she took in her face; her normally cheery, playful eyes were a bit darker, and she was gnawing on her lip, but not entirely out of nerves. She looked...mischievous.</p>
<p>“There is...nothin’ little about your weiner, Dean.”</p>
<p>He couldn’t help it, his lips twitched into a smile. Hell, he was flattered. “Thanks, Donna. You’re a real pal.”</p>
<p>They both broke into laughter and as it died away, they kissed again, this time with fewer nerves and much fewer reservations about touch. Dean’s hands went south, sliding under her shirt, and his fingertips tickled her ribs, then smoothed over her stomach and—his heart jumped—under her bra. Against his palm, he felt warm, clean skin and then a taut, hard nipple under his fingers.</p>
<p>Donna’s small, sharp inhale into his mouth made him pause, but not break his touch. </p>
<p>“We good? Too soon?”</p>
<p>“No,” she breathed against his lips. “No, just… More would be nice.”</p>
<p>More. He could do more. </p>
<p>Blindly, they walked towards the bean bag chair, feet shuffling over her old rug, kissing easily. Their lips were slippery, and small hitched breaths and tiny moans were exchanged, this time without causing them to pause.</p>
<p>Their feet hit the chair, and the heat from the fire warmed their legs. Dean’s hand was fully under her bra now, and he had a handful of Donna’s breast, her nipple tickling his palm as he massaged the warm mound gently. Every time he circled her nipple, she seemed to hold onto him tighter. With another rush of bravery, Dean’s hand fell from her hair and he hooked his fingers under the waistband of her underwear.</p>
<p>A bit caught up in the moment, Donna began kissing down his jawline and then his neck—</p>
<p>“Ah,” Dean yelped, wriggling away. “Not the neck. I just-I hate it.”</p>
<p>Donna blinked in alarm, and then she laughed breathily, clapping him on the chest. “Right! Oh, jeeze, sorry, there, Dean. Won’t happen again.” She raised a hand, crossing her fingers by her head. “Scouts honor.”</p>
<p>“You were never a scout, were you?” Dean challenged, grinning at her and wiping at his neck.</p>
<p>Her cheeks shone in the firelight, and her dimples deepened. “No. Not a darn day of my life. I was an—-<em>oohh!”</em></p>
<p>Her little cry of surprise made Dean smile big as he dropped to his knees and tugged her underwear down with him. Her chest rose and fell quickly, but she watched him down the front of her shirt, and he looked up at her, eyes locked.</p>
<p>“You, uh...help a friend out?” Dean jutted his chin towards the big bean bag chair at her feet. “I got other places I wanna kiss you and from this angle, you’re kinda tall.”</p>
<p>On command, Donna dropped down into the chair, the beans shifting under her loudly. Her underwear was around her ankles, and she had a slightly stressed look to her. “Um. Like this?”</p>
<p>Dean made a twirling motion with his finger and shook his head. “Come on, Donna. We talked about this. You want me to go down on you from behind, right? On all fours, let’s go.”</p>
<p>With a snort, Donna did as she was told, and Dean had a moment where he wanted to look up to Heaven and thank a God he momentarily forgot he hated. Donna, on all fours, her legs spread in front of him...fuck. It was glorious. She was glorious. She was all ass and thighs and Dean hoped to high heaven that he wouldn’t come too soon. His dick was already stupidly hard, raising a tent in the towel he wasn’t sure was going to hang on his hips for much longer.</p>
<p>“Knees on the bean bag, Dons. Give me a good angle to work with here—wow.”</p>
<p>She did as she was told before he could even finish his sentence, and there it was, her pussy. Perfect. Pink. Totally, shamelessly open there for him, and shining between a smattering of dark blonde hair. Dean shook out his hands, hoping his nerves would shake off of them.</p>
<p>With another <em>here goes nothing</em>, he snuffled forward on his knees and slipped his hands over her ass, and spread her open, sliding his tongue over her pussy, tasting her and immediately loving it. Soft, heady, sweet. Under his hands, he felt her shudder and he heard her mumble something. </p>
<p>“What?” he asked into her, his voice muffled.</p>
<p>“Oh, jeepers... Don’t talk. Just...keep going.”</p>
<p>And that was all Dean needed. Clear directions. </p>
<p>The next few minutes filled the room with wet, sloppy sounds of licking and sucking, and Donna’s hitched breathes and long, drawn out moans. She was loud, and vocal, and Dean was all about it. He couldn’t get enough, he wanted to suck on her clit until the sun came—</p>
<p>Donna interrupted him, asking to roll over. Her elbows hurt. Of course, Dean heeded her request, helping her up and wincing in sympathy when her knees cracked.</p>
<p>“Old bones,” she joked, rubbing at her elbows and knees. Quickly, though, she recovered, jutting a thumb at the bean bag. “Get on there, Winchester. Your turn.”</p>
<p>Gleefully, Dean wiped at his wet mouth and they swapped positions. To his surprise, she pushed him onto his back and gripped at his waist, pulling him down the bag, his legs spread on either side of her hips. </p>
<p>Moments later, Donna Hanscum was sucking his dick. <em>Oh, God. This is happening. Donna is sucking my dick. Fuck, fuck, she’s sucking it so good—</em></p>
<p>The hot, wet mouth lifted off Dean’s junk and Donna asked, “You gonna narrate the entire time, there, bud?”</p>
<p>With a flush and a few hard blinks, Dean realised he’d been talking out loud. “I… Uh, fuck. Sorry. I’m just… You’re… You’re just <em>real </em>good at that.”</p>
<p>As a reward, he was gifted with her big, toothy smile and Donna tucked hair behind her ear. “Oh, jee, thanks!”</p>
<p>He noticed the hair fall back into her face and he gestured to her head. “You want me to hold your hair?”</p>
<p>“Oh, wouldja? That’d be a big help.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, just gimme a sec—”</p>
<p>She held still while he gathered her hair and held it away from her face, gripped in a loose fist. He raised his brows. “Good?”</p>
<p>“You’re a trooper,” Donna said, flexing her fingers in a finger gun at him. “Just no pullin’, okay?”</p>
<p>“No, ‘course not, you said you didn’t like that. I wouldn’t, I—ohjesusfuckin’gaah—”</p>
<p>Dean’s head fell back against the edge of the beanbag chair and he let Donna suck the holy ghost right from his cock as he stared upside down at the russain doll collection she had atop an old hutch. </p>
<p>He nearly came, blindly staring at the hutch, his head filled with nothing but focus. Focus on Donna and her tongue as it lapped the underside of the tip of his cock, and her humming as she slid her lips down his shaft, nearly to the root. And godfuckingjesusoh—her finger rubbed at his hole, spit-slicked and varying in pressure as she tried to assess what he liked—</p>
<p>“We have to move,” she panted, raising her head to catch her breath. </p>
<p>Dean lifted his head, feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. His face was hot and he was covered in sweat. He noticed, seeing the sheen on Donna’s face, that she was, too.</p>
<p>“I’m fudgin’ boiling down here.” She jutted her head at the fire. “I mighta jumped the gun with the fire, I think. Getting toasted on one side, and this rug isn’t doing favours to my old knees.”</p>
<p>They both glanced at the couch. It looked delightfully comfortable, sitting there between those two lamps, the cushions fluffy and inviting. </p>
<p>“Couch?” Dean asked.</p>
<p>Donna sat back on her heels, and nodded, wiping at her mouth. “You betcha. Ready for a condom?”</p>
<p>With a grin, Dean grasped at his cock and waggled it at her. “You want this dick, Donna?”</p>
<p>Unlike before, he wasn’t offended when she tipped her head back and laughed. With glee, she clapped her hands together and grinned, her cheeks indeed rosy from the heat of the fire. “Do I ever!”</p>
<p>“‘Kay, I got a condom in my jacket,” Dean said, struggling to his feet. The towel around his waist fell onto the bean bag chair, but he no longer cared about nudity. All he cared about was getting Donna just as naked.</p>
<p>As he rushed over to his jacket, dick bobbing, Donna seemed to have read his mind because she yanked her shirt over her head and threw it aside, seeming not to care as it disappeared under her kitchen table. He laughed, and briefly noticed how he hadn’t laughed or grinned this much in a really, really long time, but amusement disappeared abruptly when he turned around (condom in hand) and her bra fell from her fingers to the floor.</p>
<p>Donna was naked. Like, really naked. All thick in the right places (all of her places were ‘right’ places, he noticed, his cock jumping). Her hair was air-dried, the tips still wet, but everywhere else dried into wild waves and random curls. Between her legs was a dusty smattering of dark hair, and her boobs...well, fuck. </p>
<p>“You look real good naked. Good for you!” Donna pointed out, gesturing at him with a flappy hand. Her tongue darted out to swipe at her bottom lip. “You’re definitely a ten.”</p>
<p>Feeling really, really flattered, his cheeks burning, Dean mimicked the gesture, waving the condom at her. “I was about to say the same thing, there, Dons. You been hiding that body under that bulky cop uniform?”</p>
<p>Donna scowled, putting a hand on her hip. “My uniform is a symbol of honour, ya jerk. Watch it.”</p>
<p>“Right, right. I...uh...you know what I was trying to say!”</p>
<p>Donna nodded, and he noticed her shoulders curl in a bit, her arms crossing over her chest. “Well, hurry back and quit starin’. Yer makin’ me all self conscious. It’s not too late to turn off the lights?”</p>
<p>Dean pushed into a walk, making his way back towards her. Shaking his head, he said warmly, “No dice. Lamps stay on. Now get on that couch so I can put the D in D-train.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Dean certainly did put the D in D-train. He gave it to her better than she’d ever gotten it from another man, though she wasn’t sure if that was because he was a sex god, if she’d been sleeping with all the wrong men, or if she felt this way because Doug’s idea of sex was rocking on top of her to the sounds of Larry King’s old drawl. Either way, that first night with Dean had been <em>fun</em>. </p>
<p>He’d pushed his cock into her at the perfect pace, and nearly gotten himself killed several times when he’d pulled out almost completely, teasing her when she’d been at the brink of orgasm. It was all a blur, but Donna was certain she’d begged, or at least, made a few vague death threats using curse words that would’ve made her mother wash her mouth out with soap. Regardless of the words her mother would’ve been appalled by, Dean had made her orgasm more than once in a loud, animalistic way that made her extremely thankful that the next neighbour was a farm’s-distance away.</p>
<p>Certainly, there was room for improvement. His dick was curved a bit to the left, and that took some adjusting. They’d had to become creative to get in the right position but in the end they’d settled with Donna’s knees on the couch, her hands gripped around the back of the seat, and Dean behind her, leg up on the arm of the sofa. His hands on her hips had been delightful, complimenting her arching back and rocking hips. He’d curl up just right, getting her right in that spot, making her entire body tingle, and making her squeeze so hard around him that they’d both come together in the end. </p>
<p>Her only regret was not being able to watch him come, because, gosh, the sounds he made…</p>
<p>“Hello?” Claire snapped her fingers in front of Donna’s face. “Are you going to stare into that beer all day? ‘Cause, like, don’t waste it. This bitch just slaughtered that exam and I think that warrants a beer—”</p>
<p>“Cool your jets, and stop calling yourself ‘this bitch’,” Jody interjected, holding her hand up and scowling at Claire. “Until you’re twenty-one, you can enjoy vanilla Pepsi with lime. Drink up.”</p>
<p>Claire plucked the lime off the edge of her glass and sucked on it, rolling her eyes up the ceiling of the western-themed bar and grill. </p>
<p>“You should be damn proud of yourself,” Jody went on, rolling her fork in her hand, coiling a growing ball of pasta on the forks. “You studied really hard for that exam, Claire, and look at you now? Kicking math right in the face—”</p>
<p>“How was the case, Donna?” Claire interrupted. “Was it ghosts after all? I bet it was ghosts.”</p>
<p>Jody sighed and shoved the large ball of pasta into her mouth, chewing grumpily. </p>
<p>Donna blinked and smiled around the table, blushing as she was caught zoning out. “Oh, sure was. Dean and I caught us two nasty ones. Casper the ugly ghosties, ya know?” She waved her hand through the air and returned her focus to the grilled shrimp on her plate. “Might’a pooped my pants if Dean wasn’t there. He really knew what to do, where to look for the remains, how to read old blueprints. Gotta say, the Winchesters are pros.”</p>
<p>Claire sucked on the lime loudly, then pulled it from her mouth, her face twisted bitterly. “I’m so pissed I had an exam when I could’ve been learning how to hunt ghosts. This <em>sucks</em>.”</p>
<p>Under her breath, Jody sang, “Who you gon’ call?”</p>
<p>“Ghostbusters!” Donna said loudly, almost entirely on gleeful childhood impulse. As a reward, she was gifted with a small grin and an extended high five from Jody across the table.</p>
<p>“The what?” Claire asked, looking confused after Jody and Donna’s hands clapped in front of her face. When the look she got from the both of them was of disbelief, Claire did that thing she did when she felt left out and confused; she pouted moodily. “Whatever, it’s probably some old person B.S.”</p>
<p>“Old person B.S,” Jody whispered in awe. “The Ghostbusters are not <em>old person stuff</em>. Do we need to educate you?”</p>
<p>“Ooo,” Donna said excitedly, looking between them. “Ghostbusters marathon, <em>please</em>. Doncha love the Stay Puft Marshmellow ghostie? I used to have a plushie of ‘im that I’d take <em>everywhere—”</em></p>
<p>“I remember those!” Jody whispered in a whisper-yell, shaking her hand at Donna. “Yeah, my sister had one, too. But <em>my</em> walls were covered in posters and I had a—”</p>
<p>“Can we stop talking about Ghostfacers, please?” Claire groaned, squishing the lime in her fingers to death above her drink. </p>
<p>“Ghostbusters, honeybun,” Donna corrected, wrinkling her nose sweetly. “Who’re the Ghostfacers?”</p>
<p>Claire stared at her, then admitted gruffly, “A bunch of ghost hunters I found online. Bunch of dweebs if you ask me, but some of their advice is legit.”</p>
<p>“Anyway,” Jody said, feeling the conversation slipping back to hunting, something she’d specifically asked over text that Donna try to avoid. She’d wanted to keep the focus on Claire’s exam, wanted to celebrate her regular, normal people achievements. It had been a struggle to keep Claire out of trouble and in school. They knew she’d always try to turn back to hunting, but it was important to remind her of life outside of The Life. </p>
<p>“Donna,” Jody piped up, going back to her meal, but smiling up from her plate. “Good for you for getting out of the house this weekend. I was worried you’d mope, but it seems like you had a good time.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Claire piped up, picking out an olive from Jody’s salad and plopping it into her mouth. “We were kinda waiting for a call from Dean to come pick you up ‘cause you were like, crying or something. Heh,” she chuckled lowly. “Kinda would paid good money to see him panic a little like that. <em>Ah, help me, a crying girl</em>!”</p>
<p>More pasta paused before it was shoved into Jody’s mouth. “<em>Claire</em>.”</p>
<p>“Actually, this weekend was good,” Donna commented, picking at her shrimp skewer with her fingers. “Gave me a lot ta think about, ya know? And I hardly even thought about Doug… Doug 1 or Doug 2.”</p>
<p>“That’s great,” Jody said encouragingly, though her mouth was filled with pasta. “That’s really, really good, Dons.”</p>
<p>“Actually, this weekend, I made a decision,” Donna piped up, swallowing the lump in her throat, unsure how much she wanted to spill because she was unsure of what their reactions would be. “Been thinkin’ about those friends with benefits.”</p>
<p>“Fudge buddies,” Claire clarified, grinning. “Did you finally make a Tinder profile?”</p>
<p>Technically, she wasn’t wrong. Donna recalled swiping through local men with Dean, sat on the back of his car. Donna shrugged her shoulders and gave the young woman a wobbly nod. “I might’ve caved there already, yeah—”</p>
<p>“You did?” Jody asked, her eyebrows shooting up, and her beer hovering in front of her face. “<em>Really?</em>”</p>
<p>“Cool.” Claire grinned, opening her palm and wiggling her fingers at Donna. “Give it here, I wanna see who you’re matching with.”</p>
<p>Panicked, looking between Jody’s disbelieving face and Claire’s gleeful gaze, Donna shook her head. “No, I... It’s not for me, I think. It’s too gosh darn weird, shoppin’ for humans like that. Feels icky.”</p>
<p>Claire scowled, her hand still hovering in the air. “Come on, Donna. Show us the goods.”</p>
<p>Jody made a noise of alarm in her throat and smacked Claire’s hand away, giving her a stern high-five. “Claire! Stop. Donna is right. Tinder is gross.”</p>
<p>“What do <em>you </em>know about Tinder?” Claire grumbled, snatching up her drink and chasing the wriggling straw with her tongue. “All the action you get is battery-powered.”</p>
<p>“<em>Claire!</em>”</p>
<p>“Claire!”</p>
<p>The wayward orphan rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Prudes.”</p>
<p>Jody was a fierce shade of red, and her eyes were darting around at the nearby tables and waiters bustling by, weaving through the restaurant. She leaned forward and hissed, “Why do you know about my battery-powered anythings!?”</p>
<p>Claire slurped through her straw, smirking at Jody around it before she gave a refreshed ‘aaah’ after, and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Coolly, she mocked, “Maybe don’t leave them drying on your counter-top for everyone to see!”</p>
<p>Jody sputtered, her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide like saucers. “That’s<em> my </em>private bathroom!”</p>
<p>“Not when you steal my hair mousse!” Claire cried, earning a look from a nearby table of elderly folk. Donna waved to them and made an apologetic hand gesture, though they glared at her, clearly not appeased.
</p>
<p>Jody leaned in and hissed, “Is it really <em>your </em>hair mousse if <em>I</em> paid for it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think Tinder is for me!” Donna interrupted loudly, wanting to break the fight that was brewing. “Too many fishies and hockey jerseys.”</p>
<p>Claire and Jody stopped fighting to turn their faces towards her, their eyes narrowed. Jody broke the silence first. “Sweetie, you love fishing and hockey, what’s the issue here?”</p>
<p>She loved hearing Dean whimper through an orgasm is what she loved. </p>
<p>“Right, well,” Donna chuckled, albeit a bit anxiously. She tucked a loose hair that had fallen from her ponytail and tapped at her mouth with a loose fist. “I, um, might’ve tried a casual...encounter. And, uh, I didn’t mind it.”</p>
<p>Claire’s mouth dropped open like Jody’s and Donna found herself on the receiving end of two very perplexed stares.</p>
<p>“What?” she asked.</p>
<p>Claire’s eyes narrowed and she asked, “You slept with someone already?”</p>
<p>In her chest, Donna felt the flare of indignation and it heated up her cheeks. “You were the one that encouraged me t’do it, Judgey McJudgerson!”</p>
<p>“No,” Claire clarified. “I mean, when did you find <em>time </em>to do that? You said you and Dean spent all weekend together? You said the hunt took all Sunday and Monday?”</p>
<p>“Well, it did, y’see—”</p>
<p>“<em>Donna</em>,” Jody warned, her face melting into an expression of realization.</p>
<p>Oblivious still, Claire snorted, picking up her fork again, resuming her attempt to finish a mountain of chilli-cheese fries in front of her. “Dean probably hooked her up with some skeeze at a bar. I’ve seen some of the dives he hangs out at. I’m sure Dean’s a good wingman, but I hope you used protection with rando #12.”</p>
<p>“We should stop talkin’ about this,” Donna suggested, picking up her forgotten garlic bread and nibbling at it, regretting bringing up the Dean thing. She wasn’t sure if Dean wanted to keep their arrangement secret. Hell, maybe he didn’t want anyone to know he was sleeping with <em>her </em>of all people—</p>
<p>“You did <em>not,” </em>Jody whispered, shaking her head slowly.</p>
<p>Chewing to keep herself busy, Donna pushed the food around her plate with the bread, soaking up sauce. “I-I did! I wore protection, I’m an adult, jeesh!”</p>
<p>“You slept with him,” Jody whispered, poking Donna in the sleeve with her fork. “Donna, you can’t sleep with either of the Winchesters!”</p>
<p>A mouthful of cola and ice fell from Claire’s mouth, back into her glass. She raised her hand, wiping at her sleeve. “You what?! <em>Gross, Donna!”</em></p>
<p>“The boys are not <em>gross</em>, Claire!” Jody chastised, scowling. “They’re just...dangerous. They get themselves into sticky situations and people around them die<em>. </em>God, I love them to death but they’re nothing but trouble, Donna!<em>”</em></p>
<p>“I...didn’t sleep with <em>them</em>, I only slept with <em>one…</em>”</p>
<p>“Ew!” Claire clapped her hands to her ears. “Gross, gross. You slept with <em>Dean</em>?! You could’ve fucked anyone on this planet and you slept with <em>Dean!?”</em></p>
<p>“Ya know what?” Donna said, ducking her head to tuck back into her meal. “Forget about it, okie dokes? I...I was just tryna tell you guys that I’m <em>fine</em>. I’m doin’ <em>fine. </em>I’m tryin’ to get over Doug, and I followed your advice to do it. I-I had a great weekend, I learned lots about hunting and Dean, he, um… Anyhoo—” She bit into her garlic bread, taking a huge bite, hoping they’d stop probing her if she couldn’t physically reply.</p>
<p>“Just be careful,” Jody warned. “For your sake and for his.”</p>
<p>Jody tucked back into her meal as well, though there was a deepening around her eyes that Donna knew perfectly well meant that Jody was thinking. She was thinking hard.</p>
<p>Unsure of what she meant by ‘for your sake and his’, Donna didn’t reply. She’d hoped they’d get more support other than ‘you can’t’ and ‘gross!’, but her arrangement with Dean wasn’t about everyone else’s approval, it was about her. She wanted something that she chose, and that she had control over, and that she could stop at any time. No stress. Just fun. No feelings, no commitment, just mutual pleasure with a friend who cared if she was comfortable. And a friend she cared to take care of, too.</p>
<p>“So tell me more about your math exam,” Donna said after swallowing, nudging Claire in the shoulder. </p>
<p>“It was gross,” Claire groaned.</p>
<p>Well, it seemed Claire thought a lot of things were gross, even the things that were good. So...in terms of Dean, what’d she know anyway?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Boinkin' Buddies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh God. Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod! No, no, no, more to the left. Curl your finger. YES! <em>Oh, God. </em>DEAN, DON’T STOP!”</p>
<p>“M’f’r’cru-p-nnnggg!”</p>
<p>Panting hard, Donna raised her face from the pillow, her hair falling all around her face. “What?”</p>
<p>Dean raised himself up, and Donna looked over her shoulder at him. He wiped the spit off his chin, but his skin still shone from the lube. Her asshole, warm and fucked by Dean’s tongue moments ago, tightened against the cold air.</p>
<p>“I said,” Dean repeated, out of breath, his face red, “my fingers are cramping.”</p>
<p>“Oh, D, you can stop if ya want,” Donna said with concern, pushing up onto her elbows. She reached back and scrunched her fingers through his hair affectionately. “You’re doin’ just great with your mouth, I can probably come from only that. Give me two more minutes of ass eating and I’ll be good to go!”</p>
<p>Dean grinned and pointed down at her asshole. “By the way, this? This is the best. Your ass—” he made a mind-blown gesture, pulling his hands through the air. “—is out of this world.”</p>
<p>A proud flush heated her cheeks and Donna pushed sweat-slicked locks of hair from her forehead. “Aw, you’re being a real charmer, you know?”</p>
<p>“Ain’t tellin’ nothing but the truth, D-Train. You close to coming?”</p>
<p>“Super-dooper close.”</p>
<p>“All right,” Dean got back down on his elbows, and Donna took a second to admire his ass in the air, his lower-back dimples pronounced above the waistband of white briefs. From in between her ass cheeks, he said, “I got like two more minutes left in this hand I think, then I’ll switch to my left if I gotta.”</p>
<p>“Works for me; you just keep doin’ whatever you were doin’, and I’ll be at the finish line in no time.”</p>
<p>In response, Dean’s tongue dragged up between her cheeks and dipped into her asshole, licking in circles with a firm tongue, and fucked her shallowly. His fingers slipped back into her pussy, his thumb massaging her clit. Donna moaned and dropped her face back down into her bed pillow, hair cascading back into her vision, though it hardly mattered because soon her eyes were rolling back, and her spine was arching in jerking movements.</p>
<p>She came hard around his fingers, commanding in hitched breaths, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—mmmmmmmfffh.”</p>
<p>Her legs shook and her cheeks quivered around Dean’s face, but to his credit, he kept fucking her ass with his tongue, even as his fingers stilled inside her, pressing against her sweet spot as her pussy pulsed around them, liquid dribbling down his arm.</p>
<p>“Jeepers,” she moaned, breathing hard when the last orgasm-induced tremors shuddered through her, and Dean pulled away, giving her room to slide onto her stomach. Donna rolled onto her back and pulled hair from her face. Her chest heaving, she panted, “Whose soul didja sell for that A+ tongue?”</p>
<p>“Funny,” he gasped, wiping at his mouth, his chest heaving, too. He looked like he’d run a marathon, his cheeks and chest all patchy and red, sweat tumbling down his neck. Before she could ask why, it occurred to her that he might’ve had some trouble breathing there at the end. She had been pushing back into his face rather demandingly.</p>
<p>Also, she had no idea what he meant by ‘funny’, but she felt damn good and his dick was bobbing there, dripping pre-come onto her mustard yellow duvet, so she decided she had other matters to deal with.</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>Her limbs feeling like goo, she gestured vaguely to his dick with a finger. “Didja need a hand?”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah,” he panted, reaching between his legs to pump at the end of his cock loosely with his wet, shining hand. He blinked sweat from his eyes and added, “Or a mouth, or like, anything. After the second time you came, I’ve been dying to come. Help a friend out?”</p>
<p>Donna, still incredibly wet and still incredibly horny, stared up at Dean, watching him stroke his dick lazily.</p>
<p>“You wanna put it in my pooper?” she asked cheerily, giving him thumbs-up.</p>
<p>Dean’s booming laugh was probably heard down the street. Her elderly neighbour the next farm over was probably woken up by Dean’s hybrid of a groan and a laugh.</p>
<p>“Donna, <em>no,” </em>he groaned, wiping at his eyes on his forearms, his face red and his grin wide. His chin trembled as he tried to hold back another cackle. Donna couldn’t help but bite at her lip in an attempt to not grin big as Dean made hilarious laugh-hiccup noises that he was trying to swallow back.</p>
<p>“No anal?” she asked, disappointed. For a moment she wondered if she’d forgotten a ground rule.</p>
<p>Then Dean sniffled and rubbed at his chest, shaking his head. “No, dude, just don’t call it a pooper when I’m about to fuck it.”</p>
<p>“Well,” she exclaimed, her own voice wobbly with laughter, “don’t be visitin’ the chocolate factory if you’re lactose intolerant!”</p>
<p>“No, oh, God, no. Donna, please. That’s <em>not </em>the saying.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m only joshin’, Dean! You’ll be fine. Ain’t got no chocolate swirl—”</p>
<p>Donna yelped and curled into herself as Dean flopped down on top of her and covered her mouth with his hand. She cackled into it, squirming beneath him as he poked her repeatedly in the ribs.</p>
<p>“Don’t talk about shit anymore!” Dean cried.</p>
<p>“POOP!” Donna barked out. “Come ride the chocolate river, Dean! AH! Hah!”</p>
<p>“Nononono—”</p>
<p>“Hersey’s Kisses for your t-t-trouble?!”</p>
<p>“I’ll give you kisses, you fucking sicko!” Dean growled, before he leaned down and captured Donna’s grinning lips, nipping at her bottom lip.</p>
<p>It only took a moment for the laughter to die between their lips and for them both to be lost once again in the way their lips moved effortlessly against each other. Donna felt that yearning, tight feeling between her legs, and she raised them, pressing them to the side of his hips.</p>
<p>Against her slick asshole she felt the tip of his cock. It bumped accidentally, and she felt Dean start to adjust to move it away. Their kiss broke as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.</p>
<p>They stared at each other and Dean swallowed loudly. “You, uh… Were you serious when you—”</p>
<p>“Yup.”</p>
<p>He glanced down between their bodies, down at his heavy cock hanging, the tip sitting just against her ass. She curled her hips up, sliding his cock between her slick cheeks.</p>
<p>He looked up at her quickly and asked, “Do you need—”</p>
<p>“Nope.” She felt around on the bed and wrapped her fingers around the bottle of lube he’d poured over his fingers earlier. Holding it in front of his face, she said, “Just lube up and slide in. Your tongue did most of the work already. I’m loosey-goosey.”</p>
<p>Dean held out his hand, flat side up, and Donna poured a generous amount of lube into his palm. With a thrill of anticipation that shot down from her heart to between her legs, Donna threw aside the bottle and hummed happily at the wet sounds of his dick getting a generous coating of thick lube. He slathered her with it, too, dipping a finger into her ass for good measure, eliciting a moan from her that came from deep in her chest.</p>
<p><em>This </em>activity was something she hadn’t experienced with someone else in a very long time. Anal was something she did in high school because a girl friend had told her she’d still be considered a virgin if she only had sex in the butt. The same girl friend, Lydia, also put it in Donna’s head that vaginal sex was for sluts, and virginity was something to be valued, that first times were for marriage.</p>
<p>Lydia had turned out to be a complete idiot.</p>
<p>Lydia had been the reason Donna hadn’t had vaginal sex until she was legally bound to Doug 1.0. Thankfully, Donna loved a good prick in the pooper, so the wait for Doug’s mediocre penis had been an extremely pleasurable one anyway.</p>
<p>Pulling herself back into the moment, Dean was pushing Donna’s legs up against her chest, folded up between them. “Hold those for me,” he instructed.</p>
<p>The last four weeks, having sex with Dean once a week when they were both free, had been quite a revelation. While everything was still new, sex-wise, their friendship hadn’t changed. He was still his regular old self, but with a boner this time! And quite a nice boner, at that. Thick and hefty, but not too long. It was curved a bit to the left, which took some maneuvering but she liked to call it his Learning Curve—a joke Dean pretending not to find funny, but in all honesty, she was hilarious. He’d learn to appreciate that joke in good time.</p>
<p>And he seemed to be open to nearly everything, eager to try whatever she pleased with twinkling eyes of wonder and excitement. Their first time together had been fun but nerve-wracking, the second being giggle-inducing but more relaxed, and their third time had been a bit more practiced. The only issue was that Dean seemed to have a hard time asking for things and had an easier time offering, which was a struggle for Donna, as she had the same issue. It seemed that having sex with a good friend was a prime opportunity to discover some vulnerabilties. It was interesting so far, to say the least. She had imagined him being worlds more assertive than he was.</p>
<p>Turns out, Dean Winchester was a bit soft as a sexual partner. Kinky and excitable, but soft.</p>
<p>Trouble was, Donna Hanscum was also a bit soft as a sexual partner. Having to step up her game was nerve-wracking, but something she was certainly willing to experiment with. So far, today alone, she’d asked for more than she’d allowed herself (or felt allowed to) ask either of the Dougs.</p>
<p>To his credit, it seemed Dean was trying to ask more, too. Perhaps it was nerves, she pondered, but there was a small blip of hesitation before he asked for some more ‘selfish’ things, and a flicker of his eyes across her face as he waited for her reaction.</p>
<p>Hopefully that would end. They both wanted a situation where they were direct, right?</p>
<p>Clapping her hands around the back of her knees, Donna watched him, and noted with a warm feeling in her chest that he looked focused but shy, the tops of his cheeks pink in a way that was different than his aroused flush. Balanced on one hand, the other reached between them, Dean positioned himself, giving her asshole an experimental rub with the tip of his cock before he pushed in.</p>
<p>With his legs folded on either side of her hips, Dean grasped her ankles and took her legs from her grip, guiding her to rest them on his shoulders.</p>
<p>And then he sucked in a harsh breath, his green eyes rolling up into his lids when she used the leverage he afforded her, and swallowed his cock whole, pulling him in deep, but slow.</p>
<p>“Holy-fucking-shit,” Dean mumbled, almost intoxicated, his eyes rolling back down, his fingertips digging into her calves.</p>
<p>Her ass filled with his dick, Donna adjusted to the feeling, waves of pleasure radiating through her lower body, rolling in her core, and swirling down to her pussy. Swallowing hard, panting, she reached down with one hand to cup her own breast, fingertips circling a nipple, while her other hand reached between her legs and sunk in a knuckle deep.</p>
<p>“You feel darn good,” she sighed, her body relaxing into the mattress, her lips spread into a lazy smile. “You can move now, though, Dean. It’s the fast lane, not a parkin’ spot.”</p>
<p>After that, Dean required little to no instruction. He curled his hips forward and back, hissing as he did so. Donna watched him, entirely turned on by the way he looked wrecked. A tingling feeling of glee settled in her stomach as she realised she was the one to make him look like that. Dean Winchester was fucking <em>her </em>and was entirely overcome by it.</p>
<p>She realised directly afterward that he was staring at her, his eyes hooded and glossy, his lips wet and swollen from going down on her. His cheeks were pink and his chest was patchy, shining with a thin layer of sweat. His palms were hot around her legs, and when he thrust into her, his stomach flexed—</p>
<p>“I’m gonna come,” she choked out, her finger curling inside her for just a moment before she was coming, the tight, tingling coil in her stomach exploding and sending a blastwave of shudders through her body. She couldn’t quite believe it, but the image alone of Dean sliding his shining cock in and out of her ass had been enough to make her come.</p>
<p>He was quite beautiful.</p>
<p>For a fu...dge buddy.</p>
<p>Her back arched and her toes curled by his face, her knees bending as her body went ridgid, then relaxed in a series of intervalled tremors. “Oh...Oh...Fu…Fuuu…”</p>
<p>Dean whimpered, a noise that was so simple and quiet, but so incredibly erotic that Donna felt her orgasm building on itself before it was even done, and her fingers pumped in and out of her in time with the snap of Dean’s hips. The coil wound tighter again, revving up once more to burst—</p>
<p>“Oh, oh, oh,” she moaned, back arching. “Fu—”</p>
<p>Dean’s pace picked up and he shoved her hand away from inside her, replacing his fingers on her pussy, spreading pink lips to rub his fingers in sloppy, but firm circles around her clit. “Say it. Say it,” he choked out. “Come on, Don—”</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>!” she cried out, when his cock stretched her just right, and fucked her in the perfect angle, and when his fingers pressed with the perfect pressure.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Dean moaned, grabbing her ankles and spreading her legs into a wide V, watching his cock slid into her, dripping and shining. “Oh, fuck, yeah—”</p>
<p>“Fuck, Dean. Oh God, yes, yes, <em>yes</em>!” she screamed, her hands pinching at her nipples.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna come,” Dean gasped, breathing hard, his inhales shuddering in thin wheezes. “Say it again, please, please, one more time, you’re gonna make me come—”</p>
<p>She’d beat him to it, her muscles clenching, her breath punching out of her. “Fuck me, Dean. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck m—”</p>
<p>“More,” he demanded, but she could tell he was a goner, she could feel his cock pulse inside her, her stretched ass feeling every small change in his erratic thrusts.</p>
<p>“Fuck my ass, Dean,” she tried, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind. She wasn’t too familiar with dirty talk, but she’d done some research as soon as Dean had texted her that morning, asking her if she was free for the evening. Her ex-husband had never wanted to try dirty talk, he’d thought it was sinful, that it wasn’t a thing people like them did. That was for <em>other </em>people. And her ex-boyfriend wanted nothing <em>but</em> porn-like behavior from her, though that was short-lived and Donna didn't have any interest in dirty talking with <em>Boink-In-The-Dark-To-Larry-King Doug. </em>All he got from her was “you like that?” and “give it to me hard, tiger”. That was all he got. She had limits.</p>
<p>Cursing wasn’t something she did too often, either. She always figured it should be reserved for appropriate occasions. But Dean was coming in her now, his face unbelievably hot—sweating, red, his eyes glossy and his mouth dropped open, lips wet and swollen—so Donna figured this was an appropriate occasion.</p>
<p>Dean was breathing fast and he was shaking, his dirty blond hair damp. He was panting through his aftershocks, and his eyes slid shut. His hands went weak and she eased her legs down with a pained wince. The position had been erotic, but it hurt her damn hips.</p>
<p>Once her feet were on the bed, Donna sat up as best as she could, leaning on her elbows, her hair sliding from her shoulders to swing down onto the bed.</p>
<p>Wincing, she reached up and patted Dean on the chest. “Dean? Hey, D? You...okay, there?”</p>
<p>“I…” His eyes slid open and he looked at her blankly, almost lost. Dean blinked. “I just came so hard,” he whispered, like his voice didn’t work properly.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear,” she muttered. “Well, your weiner is still in my bum, there, friend. Mind vacating?”</p>
<p>“No,” Dean grumbled, wiping his hand across his forehead. “I want to stay in there forever.”</p>
<p>“In that case, you owe me first and last month’s rent, and you gotta tell Sam we can’t do the case we’re supposed to be doin’.”</p>
<p>With a long, drawn-out groan, Dean reached down and pulled out. Donna had to admit, the exit wasn’t nearly as hot as the entrance. His soft dick slipped out of her and she shuddered at the un-sexy clean-up that was going to follow.</p>
<p>Dean collapsed down on the bedside her, the side of his head hitting the pillow. His lids blinked blearily. His fingers reached out and began drawing patterns on her shoulder.</p>
<p>She found herself smiling, more warmth unfurling in her chest...</p>
<p>“No sleepin’ in my bed,” Donna said suddenly, tapping at his chin. “Thems the rules.”</p>
<p>“But I’m so comfy,” Dean replied sleepily, curling into a ball beside her. He tucked his hands under his head, ceasing his soft touches on her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Nuh-uh.” She sat up gingerly, clenching to hold in his mess. “Clear out, buster. I already made up the futon in the living room. Put a bed warmer in there for you, ‘cause I know it gets cold out there at night.”</p>
<p>“I thought after sex cuddles was allowed sometimes?” he asked raspily, frowning at her as he raised his head.</p>
<p>Sliding her ass off the bed, Donna reached over and clapped Dean hard enough on the bare ass to elicit a yelp from him. “Shoulda thought of that before you made a mess in my rear without puttin' on a rubber! Leave me alone to shower. You and I got a case to work tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Dean sat up and scuttled off the bed, his eyes wide. “Enough said. Goodnight!”</p>
<p>Donna grinned, watching his tight ass jiggle all the way out of the room.</p>
<p>“Night-night!”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“Shringa?”</p>
<p>“No, Donna. Sound it out. Sh-tri-ga.”</p>
<p>“Shhhhhtringa.”</p>
<p>“Shtriga.”</p>
<p>“Shtrignaaaa.”</p>
<p>“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>The bell above the costume shop door jingled as Dean pulled it open and stepped inside, Donna following behind him.</p>
<p>The small store was packed tightly with costumes of all shapes, sizes, and varieties. Some were piled on tables, shoved on selves, or hung on racks in the narrow aisles. While the story was musty, the windows mostly covered by racks and closely shoved-together mannequins in ridiculous ensembles, it was lit by random, mismatched lamps on various available counter space.</p>
<p>“Well, this is charming!” Donna pointed out cheerfully, nodding at a beaded lamp atop a rack of clown costumes. She ran her hand over the beads, grinning at the tinkling noises.</p>
<p>Dean nodded to a teenager scrolling on his phone behind a cramped counter in the very front corner. “Sup?”</p>
<p>“Hats are 30% off today,” grunted the teenager, glancing up from his phone.</p>
<p>Dean pressed a hand to his chest. “Dreams <em>do </em>come true.”</p>
<p>The teenager rolled his eyes and returned to his phone, while Donna ducked into an aisle, her hand on her mouth, chuckling into it.</p>
<p>“Anyway,” Dean said, following her and gazing around him, running his hands over the costumes, “we’re likely dealing with a shtriga. Soul suckers, blood drinkers. They’re funky-ass witch-vampire hybrids and I don’t know if you know this, Donna, but I hate witches.”</p>
<p>Donna looked over her shoulder, scowling. “Isn’t your bud Rowena a witch?”</p>
<p>Pulling his attention away from the clown costume he was trying to convince himself not to buy to scare Sam, Dean tossed her a dirty look. “Rowena is <em>not </em>my bud. She’s a work partner <em>at best</em>. Half the time, she’s one hex bag and a jinx away from being ganked.”</p>
<p>“She helped ya save the world,” Donna pointed out, shrugging. She carried on down the aisle.</p>
<p>“Whatever,” Dean muttered. “We gotta find me a priest get-up. I’m pretty sure the reason those kids in the church are getting sick is ‘cause of a shtriga. Seen it happen before. Gotta get into the back of that church somehow.” He slid a handful of costumes down the rack, wincing at the grinding sound. “My old priest threads don’t really fit anymore.”</p>
<p>“Your old priest threads?” Donna asked, surprised. She pulled out a full-body hot dog costume and pointed to it. “You got a lot of costumes hidden somewhere, Dean?”</p>
<p>Recalling the pest control, inmate, police, park ranger, FBI, and lab coat outfits that he had folded in the truck of the Impala alone, not even considering the ones he had at the bunker, Dean grinned. “Perks of the job. I get to dress up.”</p>
<p>“Fun!” Donna exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. “I do love a good dress-up. Halloween is my favourite holiday. Last year, I was a firefighter.”</p>
<p>“Oh, really?” Dean raised his brows at her.</p>
<p>Her cheeks flushing, Donna admitted guiltily, “I pulled some strings with my firefighter buds.”</p>
<p>“Networking, I dig it,” he said, pulling out a few more costumes, his eyes scanning for black and white. “Keep an eye out for a cassock or—”</p>
<p>“Oooo, look!” Donna gasped, shoving her arm into the sea of costumes, only to yank out a set of blue scrubs and croc shoes from its depths. She did a little wiggle, holding the costume up against her body. Dean’s heart did a small jump when she glanced up at him, her cheeks dimpled as she grinned. “Lookie here, sir-ee! Do I look like Doctor Piccolo from Doctor Sexy or what!?”</p>
<p>“Hell-to-the-yeah, girl,” Dean laughed, his brows shooting up on his forehead. He reached forward, holding the shoes out of the way to get a good look at her. “All you need is a lab coat and a bad attitude and you’re set.”</p>
<p>“I think I saw a lab coat back there,” Donna whispered, pointing over his shoulder. Her eyes twinkled. “Don’t know why I’d need to buy this but ho-buddy, am I ever tempted!”</p>
<p>“I could think of a couple reasons why.” Dean winked.</p>
<p>Donna reached up and flicked Dean in the chest. “Oh, ya big ol’ pervert.”</p>
<p>Dean’s grin spread and he leaned down towards her face. Her expression changed for a moment, softening, and he saw her glance at his lips, but at the last second, Dean raised a hand and pointed over her shoulder. “So,” he murmured, “if I wore that while you wore this, you wouldn’t be into it?”</p>
<p>Donna’s brows shot up and she spun around, her ponytail flicking Dean on the chin. Behind her, on a mannequin was a full cowboy get-up, chaps, boots, and hat, all included.</p>
<p>“Yee haw,” Donna giggled, grinning over her shoulder at him. “You still wanna boink a doctor in a cowboy outfit?”</p>
<p>“Boink, be boinked. I’ll boink until I’ve yee’d my last haw, D-Train.”</p>
<p>Donna threw her head back and laughed, snorting a bit, her big warm-and-fuzzy inspiring grin making it hard for Dean not to chuckle a bit as well.</p>
<p>She hooked the doctor’s outfit on the rack again and continued down the aisle way. “All right, horn dog, let’s find ya that priest outfit so we can gank that mean ol’ Shringo.”</p>
<p>“Shtriga, Donna, for the love of God.”</p>
<p>“Shhhhtrogataaa,” Donna hissed, turning a corner into the next aisle.</p>
<p>With a groan, he pinched the bridge of his nose, but felt an odd light feeling in his stomach. Keeping an eye out for a clerical collar among the costumes, Dean followed her, an airiness to his step that he couldn’t really explain.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Birthday Weekend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a long one, but super sweet. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Coffee?”</p>
<p>Donna peered up from her desk, blinking hard. She’d been writing an arrest report for the last forty minutes and her brain was cramping. When coffee was offered to her, she perked up, her brows wiggling up her forehead.</p>
<p>In front of her desk was the new guy, Jeremy. He was their civilian records clerk, fresh in the industry, but it was his second career, so he had the nervous energy of a newbie but the maturity of a seasoned professional. He was friendly and had brought in donuts for everyone else on his first day. Jody called him a bit of a brown-noser, but he was organized and did his job properly, which Donna appreciated. Jeremy was replacing their old clerk, Brian, who was caught wasting time dancing in the evidence room and spent more time training himself to learn the lyrics to Bryan Adams songs than doing any kind of record keeping.</p>
<p>“Oh, you betcha,” Donna replied, smiling kindly at him. After accepting the warm, creamy coffee from him, she held it in her hands on her desk. “Thanks a bunch, Jeremy. How’re your first few weeks?”</p>
<p>Jeremy smiled, shrugging his portly shoulders, his brown eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Very good, Deputy Sheriff. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Everyone bein’ nice to ya?” Donna asked, raising a brow. “‘Cause if not, I can arrest them, ya know.”</p>
<p>Jeremy gestured over his shoulder with a thumb and said, “Well, that one drug dealer you busted called me a four-eyed, sweater-vest-wearing bag of dicks, but other than that, everyone is very kind.”</p>
<p>Donna waved a warm hand. “Well, who doesn’t get called a bag of weenies every once in a while, eh? Builds character, my dad always says.”</p>
<p>“You and your dad have very interesting conversations, Deputy Sherr—”</p>
<p>“For the last time, Jeremy, you can just call me Donna.” She tapped at her chest. “My badge won’t jump out and smack ya if you do.”</p>
<p>“Right,” he said, shaking his head. “Of course. Sorry. Habit. Sheriff Mills instructed me to call her ‘sheriff’ only, so instructions are conflicting, but I’ll get used to it.”</p>
<p>“Eh.” Donna tilted in her chair, watching Jody through the blinds of her office, barking orders over the phone. “She’s...strict. But helluvan officer, let me tell ya. Sioux Falls is a lucky duck of a town. She watches over the people like a hawk.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I can see that,” Jeremy laughed, his moustache twitching.</p>
<p>Donna and Jeremy stared at each other, and when she raised her other brow at him, he scratched at his short beard and pointed out, “I was talking to the office admin and she said you’re new in town as well?”</p>
<p>“New-ish,” Donna admitted, waggling her hand in the air. “Transferred here from Hibbing, where I grew up. I was at Stillwater for a bit, up in Minnesota, then over to Larson County.”</p>
<p>“Minnesota?” Jeremy grinned. “<em>Ya don’t say</em>.”</p>
<p>Noticing him mimicking her accent, Donna’s face spread into a grin. “Watch it, newbie. I can arrest you, too.”</p>
<p>Jeremy raised his hands in surrender and chuckled, “Just quite a ways away for a transfer.”</p>
<p>“I moved here to be closer to Jodes,” Donna admitted, raising her coffee to her lips to take a sip. “She and I take care of a few foster kids. Four hours each way was a bit much with my tight schedule, so, y’know, had to make the move.”</p>
<p>Jeremy’s face seemed to fall for a moment and he asked slowly, “So you and Sheriff Mills… You’re together-together?”</p>
<p>With a loud bark of laughter that earned her a few annoyed looks from the desks around her, Donna coughed around a mouthful of coffee and then swallowed thickly, chuckling, “No, no. It’s not like that, no, no, no. We’re friends, just lookin’ out for a few wayward girls. They’re a handful sometimes, need two people to steer ‘em right. I’m...I’m single.”</p>
<p>Then, a moment of understanding was exchanged between them as Jeremy’s smile softened and the lines around his eyes became shallower behind his glasses.</p>
<p>“Good,” he said quietly. “Maybe...since we’re both new-ish in town, you could help me discover where to grab a decent bite around here?”</p>
<p>Her mouth went dry instantly, and Donna raised the coffee cup to her lips taking a big gulp. “Mmmhmm.”</p>
<p>For some reason, Dean’s face flashed across her mind, grinning at her in the costume shop, and wiggling his hips at her in the In-N-Out parking lot.</p>
<p>Half-turning away to return to the front desk, Jeremy paused and winced. “Unless you’re busy, I’m just—I, uh, don’t know anyone in town. Yelp reviews are only so helpful, and, um, well, you know—just… Nevermind, I—”</p>
<p>“Madison’s downtown is nice,” Donna choked out, thumping her chest as coffee got caught in her gullet. “I-Italian restaurant—” She’d wanted to take Doug there, when they'd been planning on him visiting. “Good garlic knots, if I recall, and um, yeah.”</p>
<p>Jeremy was a bit patchy under his beard, his fingers rubbing at his palms at his sides. “Oh. That’s great. Well, thank you. I’ll try it.”</p>
<p>As he walked away, Donna had the impulse to smack her head on the table a few times. Between Dougs she’d complained about no nice men existing in the world, and now there was a cute one in a sweater vest and glasses asking her out sweetly, entirely respectful of her rejection, and thoughts of Dean were rudely crossing her mind.</p>
<p>She didn’t owe Dean anything, he was her friend, and part-time orgasm donor. A fudge buddy. If she understood correctly, it meant she could fudge other people as well.</p>
<p>“I’m busy this weekend,” Donna said suddenly, her cheeks heating up. “Got a friend from out of town visitin’. But, if you’re free in two weeks, I could take ya. To Madisons,” she clarified. “Never tried the garlic knots myself. Always tempted, though.”</p>
<p>“I’m free in two weeks,” Jeremy said, half-turned towards her. His smile was wide. “It’s a date.”</p>
<p>Donna raised her coffee cup at him and nodded. “It’s a date.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“I’ve got me a date!” Donna announced, dropping down onto the couch beside Alex, handing her a bowl of popcorn.</p>
<p>Claire looked up from her homework spread across the coffee table and scowled, “Is all we do nowadays is talk about boys?”</p>
<p>Jody strode in from the kitchen, balancing a tray of drinks—two Pepsi’s and two beers. She set them on a side table and scowled at Claire as she handed out drinks to everyone. “Claire, if there’s one thing that we rarely talk about in this house, it’s <em>boys</em>. Between Alex’s horrific work stories, your fascination with murder podcasts and hunting monsters—” Jody handed Alex and Donna a pop and a beer respectively. “—and Donna going on about the Minnesota Wild losing <em>another </em>game, I welcome a chat about boys once in a while.”</p>
<p>Alex wore a peculiar smile on her face, aiming it at Claire, but Claire just glared and dragged her finger across her neck. “Anyway,” Claire said tightly, “you got a <em>date? When? </em>All you ever freakin’ do is work and watch that stupid Grey’s Anatomy rip-off on PVR until four in the morning, and then, like, go on hunts with Dean because he’s all lonely and bored now that Sam has a girlfriend.”</p>
<p>Jody dropped down into a lumpy armchair behind Claire and pointed the remote at the TV. She paused her clicking through the inputs, eyeing Donna. “Don’t tell me the rumors are true…”</p>
<p>“I kinda sorta got asked out at work,” Donna admitted, wincing at Jody. “Jeremy is new in town and—”</p>
<p>“Ugh.” Jody sipped from her beer, muttering, “I knew it. Janice from the front desk overheard and told everyone. I can’t believe you agreed to a date with Jeremy. He’s such a brown-noser.”</p>
<p>“You hired him!” Donna exclaimed.</p>
<p>Jody waggled her finger as she struggled to swallow an entire mouthful of beer. “Mmmn-mmmn!”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes! You did!”</p>
<p>Swallowing loudly with a gulp, Jody coughed. “He’s the mayor’s <em>brother. </em>There was an element of pressure there, Donna. The mayor gave me some sob story about how his brother just moved here, is going through some nasty divorce and changed careers late in life, blah-blah-blah.” Jody flapped her hands in a talking motion. “He’s not very <em>qualified</em>. Heather Backmund from the post office had applied, and she’d had previous experience doing a similar job. She would’ve been much better—”</p>
<p>“He’s trying,” Donna argued, feeling huffy. She slid down in her seat a bit, sipping on her drink, suddenly regretting sharing her ‘good news’.</p>
<p>“What about Dean?” Claire asked, and there was something peculiar to her tone. Donna detected a...strange defensiveness to the expression on her face. “You gonna tell him you’re going on dates?”</p>
<p>In her chest, Donna simultaneous felt a hot flash of indignation and a cool, pooling sensation that slid into her stomach. “Of course I will. We’re only...only messing around, we both know we don’t owe nothin’ to each other. But…” She shrugged a shoulder. “...I’ll tell him like I’d tell any friend.”</p>
<p>The four of them turned to stare at the TV as the Netflix logo flashed dully, loading up.</p>
<p>“Should be careful with that,” Jody warned, a strange tightness to the lines around her mouth. “I don’t think you should’ve started sleeping with Dean. He’s our friend. A good friend.”</p>
<p>Donna knew Jody felt responsible for the Winchesters. Not just as good friends, but as more of her own wayward wards. Her boys.</p>
<p>“We know what we’re doin’,” Donna said quietly.</p>
<p>Jody clicked through the movie listings, eyes still trained on the screen. “Yeah, well… Dean always thinks he knows what he’s doing, but—”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, he won’t get me killed, if that’s whatcha think,” Donna chuckled, thinking she’d anticipated what Jody was about to say.</p>
<p>“No,” Jody said firmly, glancing over quickly, before fixating on the TV again. “No, he gets invested in people, Donna. The boys put on a front, but they’re sensitive, the both of them. Just look at how Sam has fallen completely in-love with that girl Eileen. He barely hunts anymore. It’s why Dean’s always calling us to come help him out. They...get very attached to people.”</p>
<p>Donna laughed, shaking a finger. “No, no, no, Jodes. Dean’s the one who said no feelings, no commitments. He’s not interested in relationships. He just wants fun, and I do too, ya know! Yous guys are gettin’ it all wrong.”</p>
<p>But all three of her girls were shifting their eyes, darting them at her. Only Alex seemed unsure of how to react.</p>
<p>“Just...be careful,” Jody warned, setting the remote on the armrest and shuffling into her chair. “None of us want either of you hurt.”</p>
<p>Ghostbusters started playing on the TV, and Donna pulled her legs up onto the couch, resting her beer on her knee.</p>
<p>“We won’t get hurt,” she said quietly.</p>
<p>Her palms began to sweat.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“You’re leaving for an entire weekend?” Sam asked from behind the kitchen island, a perplexed expression on his face. He wiped his hands on a dishcloth slowly. “What for?”</p>
<p>Looking between Sam and Dean, Eileen raised a brow, too, her hands still around two salad tongs. “We made food. Lots of food.”</p>
<p>Dean approached the island, adjusting his duffle over his shoulder. “Eh, just takin’ a vacation.”</p>
<p>“A vacation?” Sam and Eileen said together.</p>
<p>Dean looked between them and huffed, clapping his hands together. “Yeah. You two are doing your thing here, going all domestic and stuff. I was gonna head up to Sioux Falls, see Claire and Jody. Might pop by Donna’s to see how she’s doing.”</p>
<p>“Is Cas going with you?” Sam asked, distractedly folding the washcloth into a neat little square. Behind him, the oven beeped.</p>
<p>“Who even knows what the feathery butthead is up to these days?” Dean chuckled, a twinge of something in his stomach. “Probably still tryna make friends with angels who hate him. I, uh, texted him yesterday though. He seems alright. Seems busy.”</p>
<p>“He might like to see Claire,” Sam pressed, shaking his head. “He’s always talking about wanting to visit her. Hasn’t seen her since the semester started, and isn’t the current one wrapping up?”</p>
<p>Dean scowled, sliding a hand into his pocket. “Dude is busy, leave him to it. If he wants to visit Claire, he can organize his own visit.”</p>
<p>“Wait… Is this a your-birthday thing?” Sam asked, an expression of realization sliding onto his face. “Shit. I kinda forgot, Dean. Crap, it’s on Saturday, isn’t it? We’ve been so busy—”</p>
<p>
  <em>Having sex and going on dates and—</em>
</p>
<p>“Did you want us to come, too?” Eileen offered, grinning at Dean and offering him a thumbs up. “Could be fun. I haven’t met those friends yet. We could do a party!”</p>
<p>Dean shook his hands, gritting his teeth and raising his brows. “Noooo, no, no. Heh. Really, thanks but no thanks. I, uh, don’t really celebrate my birthday.”</p>
<p>Sam tapped Eileen on the shoulder and grinned. “Dean is turning thirty-seven this year. He’s pretty much forty.”</p>
<p>Dean narrowed his eyes, glaring between the two of them, who were smirking at him. Dean squeezed his fist around the strap of his duffle and snapped, “Fuck you both. I’m leaving.” He paused, pointing at Eileen. “And I’m twenty-nine, thank you very much.”</p>
<p>Eileen's face spread into a smile and she laughed, winking. “Me too.”</p>
<p>“Atta girl,” Dean said, before saluting them both and ducking into the war room to leave, excited to get his weekend with Donna started.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Donna | 01/24/16 | 6:13pm: <em>hiya D! Finishing up late at work, u hungry?</em></p>
<p>Dean | 01/24/16 | 6:17pm: <em>sup d-train? Starved</em></p>
<p>Donna | 01/24/16 | 6:19:<em> great. Mind grabbing food for us?</em></p>
<p>Dean| 01/24/16 | 6:20: <em>Ya no problem. What r u feeling </em></p>
<p>Donna | 01/24/16 | 6:22: <em>little diner in town we like! </em></p>
<p>Donna | 01/24/16 | 6:22: <em>I already ordered and paid, u just give them my name. Tnx! </em></p>
<p>Dean | 01/24/16 | 6:24: <em>u gonna be home soon? Im 20 minutes out of town</em></p>
<p>Donna | 01/24/16 | 6:25: <em>u might be there before me. Key is under the hat on the front porch. C u soon! ;)</em></p>
<p>Dean | 01/24/16 | 6:26: <em>can’t wait :)</em></p>
<p>***</p>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p>The Impala’s wheels crunched over packing snow between the rows of dusted pine trees and icy forest that led to Donna’s cabin. The small old cabin was Donna’s home, so Dean made a mental note to berate her for not shoveling the driveway. It’d been snowing for two months now, the girl needed to buy a damn snowblower so she didn’t slip and fall on her driveway alone, too far from the main street for anyone to hear or see her.</p>
<p>Sometimes Dean worried about her being alone out in her little cabin.</p>
<p>Also, he really wanted to ride on a snowblower. Maybe he could convince her to let him clear her driveway while she was busy at work sometime. As Dean pulled right by behind Donna’s truck, he peered around, beginning to form plans on where he’d make his small snow mountains with the hypothetical snowblower.</p>
<p>Once parked, Dean climbed out of the car, reaching to the passenger seat to grab the food that he’d bought at the diner. The waitress had been weirdly coy about answering him when he’d asked what kind of eats Donna had ordered, but considering the scent of spicy cinnamon and sweet apple, and aroma of hearty beef that wafted up from the bag, he bet there were a couple of fresh pies in there. If so, Dean asked himself how Donna expected him to not fall in love with her completely.</p>
<p>...of course, that wasn’t their arrangement. But meat pie, and sweet fruit surrounded by flaky, buttery goodness? God damn. Dean was only human.</p>
<p>He grunted as he threw his duffle over his shoulder and made his way towards the porch. The windows were dark except for the small glow coming from her bedroom, so Dean assumed she hadn’t been home yet, and merely left her bedroom light on as she had the habit of doing. The key, he remembered, was supposed to be under the mat. She’d made an obvious typo in his message, as she often left the key hidden somewhere on her porch for him—</p>
<p>Dean stopped dead in his tracks, the toes of his steel-toed boots thumping against the bottom steps up to Donna’s veranda.</p>
<p>Atop her welcome mat...was a hat.</p>
<p>Specifically, a cowboy hat.</p>
<p>A wide-brim hat, made of probably-real stiffened cow leather. Vintage, if he knew anything about hats—and Dean knew about hats.</p>
<p>
  <em>“u might be there before me. Key is under the hat on the front porch. C u soon! ;)”</em>
</p>
<p>“What the…” Dean whispered, but was drawn to it, a strange thickness in his throat.</p>
<p>After ascending the steps with the same nervous cautiousness as when he was hunting ghosts, Dean’s boots thumped slowly over the creaky porch and he leaned down, pulling the hat up into his hands after setting the bag of food on the snow-dusted porch.</p>
<p>It was heavy. <em>Definitely </em>real leather. Somehow smooth yet rough against his calloused fingers. He ran his finger over three steel divots on the side and over the elegant leather band around the crown.</p>
<p>His heart beat fast, wondering with fear why there was a hat on Donna’s porch. History of his life would dictate that this hat sitting there meant nothing good. Maybe this belonged to an intruder, someone who’d broken in to hurt Donna. Maybe it was cursed and he’d just touched it like an idiot...</p>
<p>But then, underneath, shone Donna’s banged-up chipped old key, glittering up at him from the mat.</p>
<p>Quickly, he snatched up the key, got to his feet, and rushed to unlock the door.</p>
<p>This was a trap. It had to be. Maybe it hadn’t been Donna texting him at all...</p>
<p>With a lump in his throat and a slight shake to his fingers that Dean couldn’t control, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.</p>
<p>The living room was dark, except for the faint glow coming from the cracked open bedroom door and rippling white embers from the fireplace in front of Dean’s neatly made futon bed. But Dean’s attention was immediately drawn to the table in front of the door, the rickety one Donna had made by hand last summer and placed behind her couch.</p>
<p>On the table was a pair of cowboy boots; worn, vintage-looking. When Dean’s hand reached out to touch them, his fingers brushed the antique leather, the same as the hat. Smooth, but rough. As lovely as they were, beside them was a card. With the same slight tremor to his hands, Dean pushed open the front cover of the card, which had a hand drawn birthday cake and cartoon lasso that trailed off the page. Inside, Donna’s scratchy writing jumped out at him.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Howdy birthday, partner. Hope yee haw a good one!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>D-Train</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>P.S Put on the threads and come to the bedroom. The doctor is ready to see you.”</em>
</p>
<p>Dean’s head snapped up and he stared at the glow of lamp light from the bedroom and all fear drained as soon as he realised what was happening. As fast as the terror and trepidation faded, an excited thrill filled every cold crevice of his body, leaving him warm. His cheeks grew hot, and his face threatened to break into a huge smile, so he bit down on his lip, his teeth gnawing at bottom one.</p>
<p>Donna had set something up for his birthday. The food, the hat, the shoes, the...the card...</p>
<p>“Donna?” he called out, just in case this was one of the weirdest traps he’d ever been lured into.</p>
<p>Dean nearly jumped a foot in the air when his phone went off in his pocket, vibrating only once to denote a text. Quickly, he fumbled for it, and as soon as he opened the message, he nearly dropped the stupid phone.</p>
<p>Donna had sent him a picture.</p>
<p>A very, very lewd, explicit picture.</p>
<p>It was a picture of her. Of, well, some of her—not her face, but <em>damn</em>… His mouth went dry and his dick immediately got hard, swelling in his pants and straining against the denim. The picture; it was a lot of skin, and a lot of round boobs, and long curly hair to either side of them and one single stethoscope around her collarbone, the earpiece tucked between her—</p>
<p>The duffle hit the ground with a loud thump, and Dean nearly fell over trying to kick off his boots and rip off his jacket, all the while rubbing at his hair to get rid of snow. He power-walked around the futon, throwing his clothes onto it as he tugged them off his body, rushing to get naked so he could put on the—</p>
<p>...and as if the surprise couldn’t get any better, folded neatly on his pillows was what he recognized as assless chaps, a shining silver belt buckle, and a fringey brown suede button-up. The very same cowboy costume he’d seen on the mannequin at the costume shop in town.</p>
<p>Unable to control himself, Dean’s laugh boomed through the room and he chuckled loudly towards Donna’s room, “Donna! <em>What is this?!”</em></p>
<p>“Just put it on and get in ‘ere so we can yee-haw, cowboy!” she barked from the other side of the door. “Doctor’s orders!”</p>
<p>Dean all but threw his clothing across the room as he put on his costume. He must’ve sounded like a foal on wobbly legs, thumping around her living room. He grabbed the hat from the porch and slid his feet into the boots.</p>
<p>With a deep, slow inhale to calm himself, Dean walked into Donna’s bedroom, pushing open the door. On the other side of the bed, Donna straightened up, her face breaking into a huge, beaming smile, her arms spread wide.</p>
<p>“Happy birthday, Dean!” she exclaimed, shaking her hands at him in what could only be described as jazz hands. Her mouth curled into the shape of an ‘o’ and she pointed at him. “Oooh, look at <em>you!</em> You look mighty hunky, there, Dean!”</p>
<p>Dean’s heart was doing tap dances in his chest, and he couldn’t help himself; he grinned, feeling warm all over. But he wasn’t sure how to react to these feelings, so he just breathed, “Holy shit, dude.”</p>
<p>Her white, crisp lab coat swished around her knees as Donna did a spin, swaying her hips a bit. Pale blue scrubs swished loudly as she turned and did a little shimmy. “How do I look?” she asked, flailing at hand down at herself.</p>
<p>Dean stared at her. Her hair was down, all wild and curly, and she was wearing obvious makeup, a rarity for her. Her lips were red and eyes were dark, and her cheeks were glowy. She had the stethoscope around her neck and she even had a freakin’ ID badge swinging on a lanyard from her neck.</p>
<p>“You look…” Dean wet his lips and tried to grin, to feel light-hearted, but he felt ridiculously touched, almost borderline emotional that she’d done this for him. For his stupid birthday. No one did jack squat for his birthday, much less set up a scenario made up of all of his fantasies, all of his favourite things.</p>
<p>“Hot,” he choked out.</p>
<p>With a whoop of glee, Donna raised two thumbs at him and exclaimed, “Oh, goodie! So ya like it? Doctor D and her cowboy patient, into the office straight from the ranch!”</p>
<p>“From the ranch?” Dean laughed.</p>
<p>Donna winked and raised her leg, wiggling her foot in the air. “I’m a cowboy doctor, like from Dr. Sexy!”</p>
<p>She was, indeed, wearing cowboy boots as well.</p>
<p>Dean raised a hand to his forehead and whispered, “I’m gonna pass out.”</p>
<p>“From <em>sex!” </em>Donna giggled, and she swept her arm through the air, gesturing towards the bed. “Get over here, partner! Let me inspect you.” She rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a purple rubber glove, winking. “Could do a prostate exam, if ya want?”</p>
<p>He always thought it was bullshit when characters in movies and books described their knees going weak, their mobility at the mercy of someone else’s kindness, but Dean felt weak in the knees, still entirely overwhelmed that Donna did this. His eyes swept the lamp-lit room; lingering over the bed that was littered with condoms as if they were rose petals. Donna had toys—actual sex toys—on a rolling tray as if she was going to do a physical. Lube, massage oil, a butt plug, a dildo…</p>
<p>“Jesus,” Dean breathed, his hand still rubbing faintly at his forehead. He felt swept off his feet, to be honest.</p>
<p>And also on the bed… Rope. Specifically, a lasso.</p>
<p>“Ready?” Donna asked, snapping on her glove, a devious grin on her lips.</p>
<p>Finally finding his feet, he put one in front of the other and approached the bed. Leaning down to pick up the lasso, he weighed it in his hands before he raised it over his head, spinning the lasso once before he tossed it across the bed. With a grin, he captured Donna in the rope, his heart jumping gleefully when she shrieked happily, and he yanked her forward onto the bed.</p>
<p>“Yee-haw,” Dean exclaimed, pouncing on her. And when she broke into restless, breathless laughter under him, squirming, her smile radiant in between ruby red lips, Dean used the rope as leverage to pull her up to him while he leaned down.</p>
<p>Inches from her lips, he whispered, “Giddy up, doc.”</p>
<p>
  <em>***</em>
</p>
<p>The role play had lasted all but five minutes, with Donna pretending to do a prostate exam on him, stating that ridin’ on his horse all day required a fine, tight ass in working order. She had him on the edge of the bed, lube tumbling between his legs, soaking the chaps against his thighs, and two of her gloved fingers slick with lube, fucking him slowly. Their ‘partner’ and ‘doc’ lasted all but six minutes, because she fucked him so good with her fingers and her other hand massaged his balls that Dean’s vocabulary had tumbled into unintelligible words that came out in keening and panting and dirty, indulgent moans that he’d never admit to anyone else came from him.</p>
<p>The fantasy did not dissolve away with the nicknames though. As soon as Donna was done teasing him and working his prostate a little, or—as she called it; had taken advantage of that tight, bare tush in assless-chaps—Dean got up and turned towards her, panting and dragging his eyes down her body. The scrubs were tight over her boobs and hips, and stretched across her thighs. The thin material did nothing but distinguish her hard nipples through the shirt and Dean found himself reaching out for them to brush his thumb over.</p>
<p>However, Donna slapped his hand away and smirked. “Nuh, uh, Mr. Winchetser. This night is about you, not me.”</p>
<p>“But,” argued Dean, “I <em>want </em>to touch you, does that count?”</p>
<p>Snapping off her glove and scoffing, Donna threw it into the trash and put her fist on her hips. "No, Dean! Ya always give when we're boinkin', ya'know, and ya rarely take. Ya almost never ask for nothin' for yourself."</p>
<p>"I'm a <em>giver</em>," Dean said with a grin. "I love to <em>give</em>."</p>
<p>Well. He liked to be given as well, but thirty plus years of taking care of everyone around him and never putting himself first kind of fucked a guy up a bit.</p>
<p>And Donna knew it.</p>
<p>"Nuh uh, buster! Come on now. When we made this friend with benefits thingie, we said we'd be direct, honest. Selfish, even! And I feel like I've held up my side of the bargain." Donna stepped towards him and put a hand on his chest, shoving him so his back landed on the bed and he bounced for one second before she was crawling on top of him.</p>
<p>As she straddled him, scrubs stretched right over his chaps, his exposed cock bobbing to the side between them, he grinned up at her and she glared at him, eyes nearly lost in black and brown smoky eye makeup.</p>
<p>"Doncha make that adorable face at <em>me, </em>Winchester<em>.</em>" Donna leaned down over him until they were nose-to-nose, and all around him he was trapped by a cage made of his hat brim and wild blonde curls.</p>
<p>"Close your eyes," she whispered against his lips.</p>
<p>Dean did as he was told. He liked to do what he was told.</p>
<p>"Close 'em all the way…and imagine what you'd like me to do to you."</p>
<p>"Donna—"</p>
<p>"Doctor's orders!" She pinched a nipple and Dean moaned.</p>
<p>But again, he did as he was told. Relaxing into the fluffy duvet, pleased by Donna’s weight on top of him, Dean indulged in the same fantasy he'd had about her since the costume shop. Behind his lids, he saw her in nothing but cowboy boots and a stethoscope. In her hands, she held the lasso rope...and on the other end, caught in the loop was Dean's upper body, his arms restrained to his sides. The side of his face was pressed into the mattress and his ass was in the air. Behind him, Donna was sliding a dildo inside him, over and over, telling him she was going to take care of him, that this was exactly what the doctor ordered—</p>
<p>Then he was on his back, and the cowboy hat was on Donna now, plucked right off his head, and the loop in the rope was around his wrists, binding them over his head, tied tightly to the headboard. The length of rope was in Donna’s hand, and on top of him, Donna was riding his cock, taking from him what she wanted. And he was impossibly hard, and Donna was moaning, riding him like a cowgirl, one hand on her hat, the other yanking on the rope, and she was coming—</p>
<p>And then, he was coming, too. Under the hot spray of her shower, fucking up into Donna's impossibly hot, tight, wet, wet, so wet— God, her arms where around his shoulders, and one of her legs was up on the handbar he knew was in her shower. Her hair was stuck to her neck and shoulders, and her skin was shining, shower water running down her face, over her lips that were so swollen from kissing and sucking, and red from lipstick that'd worn off. He came with a shout, his lips still latched around one of her nipples, and she was coming, too, her head tipped back, her scream loud like the pounding of the water against the tile—</p>
<p>"Wowie," Donna whispered against Dean's lips. "That… Ya missed your calling writing penthouse stories for the porno mags, D."</p>
<p>Dean's eyes slid open slowly and Donna sat up, staring down at him with intense arousal swirling in her chocolate brown eyes. Dean realised he'd been talking out loud, murmuring his fantasies to her within the safety of her hair and her lips and the brim of his hat.</p>
<p>"We don't have to do any of that," Dean said quickly, heat rushing to his face, guilt pooling in his stomach for some reason. He wasn't good at admitting what he liked, not really. He was frightened that—</p>
<p>"I'm not judging you, Dean," Donna chuckled.</p>
<p>Right. Yes. That’s what he was afraid of, what he’d always been afraid of.</p>
<p>She reached forward and placed her hand on his cheek, a gesture that was far more intimate than anything they'd shared so far. They fucked well and good, but a hand on his face…her thumb brushing his cheekbone...her smile so genuine and lovely…</p>
<p><em>Let yourself have this,</em> he urged himself, trying to let go of the guilt of asking for something selfishly. <em>Be emotionally available. For once.</em></p>
<p>"...'kay," Dean said quietly, leaning into her hand.</p>
<p>Something passed between them, and Donna's smile only grew warmer. Then, she leaned down and kissed him, their bodies pressed together.</p>
<p>Dean reached up and slid his hands over her face, tangling them in her hair. His chest swelled with <em>something </em>and deepened their kiss. The hard-on he'd lost after feeling a spike of fear a few moments ago came back, and Donna must've felt it because she rocked her hips over his, easing some pressure in his cock as she pressed it against her thigh.</p>
<p>Dean moaned into her mouth and he felt Donna grin against his lips. He smiled back and their foreheads pressed together as he gently scrubbed his fingers in her hair.</p>
<p>"Ready to live out some fantasies?" Donna asked hushedly.</p>
<p>Feeling safe under her face, his body warm under hers, he nodded. "You betcha, doc."</p>
<p>"Then get on your hands and knees, cowboy. Time for the rodeo."</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>"Oh, <em>fuck</em>. Fuck, fuck, fuck—"</p>
<p>Dean's toes curled and his fingers curled into Donna's hair at the back of her head, urging her on as her head rocked back and forth over the head of his dick, her mouth making wet, sloppy sucking noises.</p>
<p>They'd gotten as far as fucking in the shower, but they probably got four thrusts in and a lot of strategic foot placement before they realised Donna needed more than one handle to make this work. They'd tried lying down in the shower, Donna on her back, Dean between her legs—one propped up, one dangling out of the tub—but Dean's hips were a bit too wide to fit between her legs in that small space, and Donna complained of feeling like she was drowning as the water hit her face directly. And, well, damn porn for making this look like a fun idea. Dean was more distracted by how cold his ass felt since he was half-outside the spray of water then he was distracted by how hot Donna looked.</p>
<p>Instead, they got out of the shower—Donna taking a second to scrub off makeup that'd ran all down her face—and were sprawled on Dean's futon now, drying off in front of the fire while Dean lay back, propped up on one elbow, watching Donna suck him off.</p>
<p>This was so much better. Warmer, hotter. Comfortable. They were adults in their damn thirties, they didn't have time to bust their asses falling in the shower.</p>
<p>But Dean had all the time in the world for the inside of Donna's mouth. Slippery. Soft. Her tongue was curling around the head of his dick, and her warm hands were kneading at his balls and pumping at the base of his cock. Donna's eyes were up, watching him pant his way through a pretty awesome blowjob, and her hair was drying from the fire, curly and tossed over one shoulder so her face was cast in a warm orange, flickering glow…</p>
<p>Dean watched one particular rogue curl bounce like a spring every time Donna bobbed her head up and down. It swayed around her cheek and when she went all the way down, taking Dean into her flexing, hot throat, the curl coiled against his hip.</p>
<p>"I-I'm...I-I—"</p>
<p>A keening whine erupted from his throat and come rushed up his cock. Donna's palm rubbed circles into his balls as they tightened up close to his body. Dean watched, moaning and panting through his orgasm as Donna's hand kneaded the base of his throbbing, pulsing dick. His eyes wanted to roll back but he also watched to watch, because Donna was watching him, her eyes triumphant. Her cheeks were hollow as she continued to suck him off through his orgasm. He felt her head pull up, and the tip of his cock was heavy on her tongue, coming there, gathering in her mouth.</p>
<p>He watched for as long as he could, but when she hummed a bit, he collapsed off his elbow and shuddered his way through the aftershocks as she gently rolled her slick tongue around his head languidly. Small hitched breaths escaped him, his eyes half open as he stared into the fire.</p>
<p>When he was entirely melted into the futon, Donna popped off his dick and he heard her pad over to the kitchen sink to spit out her mouthful of Winchester Surprise. The water ran and he heard her gargle a bit.</p>
<p>Then cabinets opened and closed, and Donna moved around her kitchen, opening drawers and fiddling around with utensils.</p>
<p>Then, a pause.</p>
<p>"Dean?" Another pause. "Didja get the food I ordered?"</p>
<p>Curled towards the fire on his side, feeling totally worn out, Dean whispered, "I left it on the porch."</p>
<p>She couldn't hear him, but a moment later, he heard her enter the living room and open the front door. Then, her laughter filled the room and she exclaimed, "Ya big goof! Ya left it on the porch! Oh well, at least it was refrigerated."</p>
<p>Dean's heart warmed to match his toasty skin, and his eyes closed, face snuggling into the bed…</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>A cool hand tapped on his face and Dean opened his eyes slowly, realising after a moment of confusion that he'd drifted off to sleep.</p>
<p>Donna was crouched between the end of the futon and the fire. It looked like she'd put a few more logs on it, since the flames flexed and flickered, stronger and brighter.</p>
<p>Dean raised his head blearily and was about to ask how long he'd been out, but Donna pulled her hand away from his face and reached down towards the floor.</p>
<p>Over the edge of the mattress emerged a small round plate with a single, generous piece of apple pie, topped with a fat swirl of whipped cream and one lit green candle, the wick flickering with a small flame.</p>
<p>Dean stared at the candle, his heart doing weird squeezing things in his chest, and his breath going all strangely shallow.</p>
<p>"Happy birthday, D," Donna whispered, her face split into a beaming smile, firelight flickering over her dimples, and adding endless warmth to her eyes. "Go on, blow out the candle and make a wish."</p>
<p>Awe barrelling over his groggy confusion, Dean pulled his eyes up to gaze at her, eyes sweeping her happy face, and he swallowed hard. Then, with a chuckle, he slid up onto his elbow and leaned forward.</p>
<p>With quick breath, he blew out the candle.</p>
<p>Through the curly smoke Donna's eyes darted across his face and Dean desperately hoped she blamed his wet eyes on sleep or the heat from the fire.</p>
<p>"What'd'ja wish for?" she asked, excited.</p>
<p>Knowing it wouldn't come true if he told her, Dean leaned down and kissed her instead.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The rest of the weekend flew by.</p>
<p>After their sexcapades that exhausted Dean out, they watched Jeopardy while eating pie on the futon, Donna sprawled naked on her stomach, picking at the pie innards so that she’d have the crust left for last. Dean lay on his side, his head pillowed on her butt, giving himself a stomach ache by trying to find out how much pie a grown man could devour before he got sick.</p>
<p>They slept in every day, and ate leftover pie for nearly every meal, except for the actual night of Dean’s birthday, where Donna made him put pants on and shower so they could go out for dinner. Or rather, she lured him into the shower with her, promising to give him a blowie and wash his hair. She discovered that Dean had a thing about having his hair touched when several times over the weekend he’d fallen asleep on her lap as she scratched at his scalp and rubbed her fingers in circles at the nape of his neck.</p>
<p>So on Saturday, in celebration of Dean’s 37th birthday, they’d gone out for burgers and curly fries. It wouldn’t be like them to do anything too fancy, though they did get cheesecake on the way home. Fluffy, creamy cheesecake with cherry sauce on top. Donna wished she’d taken a picture of Dean eating it, his cheeks puffy with the dessert and his eyes trained on his fork like he could eat it with his eyes, too.</p>
<p>Sunday had been a blur of sex, indoor mini-golf, a few games of billards at a local dive bar, and a horror movie marathon that had left Donna in stitches. Dean <em>really </em>couldn’t watch horror movies without pointing out how <em>‘that weapon would never work on a vampire’</em> or <em>‘I could nail that sucker in ten minutes tops.</em>’</p>
<p>When the sun began to go down, Donna's heart sank with it.</p>
<p>Dean noticed, too, peering up at the dimming daylight through a crack in Donna’s curtains. She watched his face tighten a bit, his lips pursed.</p>
<p>“Damn,” he muttered, his chin resting back down onto the pillow beneath his head. His eyes watched the credits roll on <em>Halloween 5: The Revenge of Michael Myers </em>and his mouth frowned. “Time to head back, I guess. Shoulda left earlier while it was daylight, but how could I leave you to watch this absolute-garbage movie alone?”</p>
<p>Donna, laying on her side beside him, she smiled a bit and raised her leg, kicking him in the denim covered ass. “Get on your way, Winchester. Sam’s probably wonderin’ why you were gone for three days to visit your favourite girls. There’s only so much Claire most people can take.”</p>
<p>“Hey,” Dean chuckled, “don’t let Claire hear you say that.”</p>
<p>Donna sighed, her fingers itching at her scalp. “She’s gettin’ better. She is. Less angsty now and is generally more bratty, as she should be at nineteen. Guess I can’t complain.”</p>
<p>Dean smiled at that, raising a brow as he glanced side-long at her. “You guys are doing great with her. Can’t believe she’s in college.”</p>
<p>“She’d much rather be ganking vamps, but <em>c’est la vie.</em>”</p>
<p>Dean rolled onto his side, too, propping his head up on his hand. His smile spread into a grin. With a wink, he said to her cheekily, “A cop, a doctor, <em>and </em>she speaks French? Damn, girl, is there anything you can’t do?”</p>
<p>“I can’t skip work tomorrow, that’s what,” she chuckled, poking him in the bare chest. “And I got work tomorrow bright an’ early. If you stick around much longer, we’ll have another tumble and I’ll be exhausted for work. Now’s ‘bout my usual bedtime, there, mister!”</p>
<p>Groaning as he got up, his back cracking and knee popping, Dean felt around for his shirt and sighed, sliding it over his bare chest until his head popped up past the collar. Feeding his arms through the sleeves, he seemed to be struggling for words. He looked like he wanted to say <em>something</em>.</p>
<p>“Everything okay?” Donna asked, watching him open and close his mouth. “I didn’t mean t’kick ya out, I just…”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Dean said, waving a hand and began hunting for the other sleeve. “I just… Listen, Don. I, uh, just wanted to…thank you for this weekend.”</p>
<p>Donna’s heart did a few skips, seeing the genuineness in his eyes, the weird sparkle like when she’d brought him pie with the candle on the first night. What Dean <em>didn’t</em> know was that she’d been a bundle of nerves for days before he’d arrived.</p>
<p>As soon as she’d walked out of the costume store with the doctor and cowboy outfits, she’d been struck with unimaginable anxiety and doubt. Their arrangement was to be casual, to be fudge buddies without complications. She’d heard the way Claire and Alex described friends with benefits. They were rather cold attachments, it seemed like. But Dean was Donna’s friend, and their arrangement was warm, it was fun. It was a bit different than just having no-strings-attached sex simply by virtue of their history.</p>
<p>When she found out that it was his birthday due to an off-handed comment from him about getting older a few weeks ago, she wanted to do <em>something </em>for him. And they’d planned for a sex weekend on her next weekend off...it just so happened she’d made sure her weekend off landed on his birthday.</p>
<p>For days before his arrival, she’d had the same scenario going ‘round in her head; he’d walk in, see what she’d set up, and he’d hate it. He’d remind her of the conditions of their arrangement. He’d tell her he wasn’t into it, that he was uncomfortable. He’d ask her not to put this much effort into anything for him, because it was too...relationship-y. It was too much. It was overkill. It pushed boundaries.</p>
<p>But to her surprise (and heavy relief) he’d been <em>so</em> appreciative. So happy, and giddy for everything she planned for them. He’d been ready for anything, including the hours upon hours where they forgot to have sex all together and just ate on the futon, or napped, or watched TV and movies in front of the fire. He’d been the one to initiate cuddles sometimes, by resting his head on her legs, or sliding an arm around her when they walked around town. And he’d been perfectly okay when she slid in behind him during movie night and threw her leg over his hips, or slipped an arm around his waist.</p>
<p>He didn’t turn her down once. Not once. He didn’t bring up their arrangement. He didn’t get tired of her once, or if he did, he was good at hiding it.</p>
<p>“Oh, it was nothin’,” she said with a laugh, though her heart was racing. “Just some food and a good time, y’know? What’re friends for?”</p>
<p>His throat bobbed and he nodded, getting up off the bed and walking around the room to gather his things; his jacket, his bag, his clothes thrown haphazardly.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I, uh…” He shrugged his jacket onto his shoulders, eyes focused on doing up the zipper. “I-I know it was nothing, but y’know.” He looked up at her and his lip twitched up at the corner. “No one’s really done much for me like this, for, uh, for my birthday. The candles and gifts...none of that stuff. Birthdays are kinda a nothing-thing growin’ up. I probably had some when I was a really little kid, but I hardly remember. And I’m rambling—” Dean jutted his thumb over his shoulder towards the door and flashed her a grin. “—I’m gonna go.”</p>
<p>A quick assessment of his face had Donna realise that<em> he was embarrassed</em>; the tops of his cheeks were pink and he was speaking quite quickly. And when he noticed her staring, he turned on his heel and headed towards the door.</p>
<p>Donna bit down on her lip to stop from grinning. She crawled over to the top of the futon, resting her elbow on the back and propping her chin on her hand.</p>
<p>“Don’t forget your hat!” she said, pointing at the cowboy hat that she’d put neatly back on the front table.</p>
<p>Mid-way through shoving his feet into his boots, Dean looked up and his face broke into an easy smile. With a wink, he nodded and plucked it off the table, shoving it onto his head. “Too damn right, Dons,” he laughed. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>He was turning to leave, his hand reaching for the door.</p>
<p>“Dean,” Donna said, wanting to catch him before he left. “I’ve been meanin’ to ask; why’d you leave the food on the porch?”</p>
<p>With a snort, Dean half-turned towards her and grinned, looking sheepish. “I… Dude, I thought this was a trap. Hat on the porch that I didn’t recognize, nearly all the lights off. Thought someone had broken in or left a cursed hat out here for me to touch. I’m an idiot.”</p>
<p>Unable to help herself, realizing now how the situation had looked to a seasoned hunter, she tipped her head back and laughed. “You big goof!”</p>
<p>Dean scratched at his chin, but he was laughing too. “Yeeeeah. A birthday thing never really occurred to me.”</p>
<p>With her heart warmed, she gave him a little handwave and said, “If we’re still friends-with-benefits next year, maybe I’ll do somethin’ like this again."</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dean murmured, nodding, turning back towards the door. “Maybe.”</p>
<p>Snow blew into the cabin when he opened the door, the porch light shining a cool silver light onto his hat, shadowing his face.</p>
<p>Her heart sank a bit.<em> If. Maybe.</em></p>
<p>“You drive safe,” she said, determined to sound cheerful, though her warmed heart was chilling and it had nothing to do with the night air entering from the front door. “See ya real soon. Happy birthday.”</p>
<p>Her cowboy nodded at her, a tight smile on his lips, and the door closed behind him with a small click, leaving her feeling very odd and very alone.</p>
<p>She wished he could stay one more night. Maybe they could’ve tried sharing a bed, just once. Just to see what it’d be like to wake up next to him. Like things were different, like if...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Just Callin' to Chat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donna slid a pair of small golden hoops into her ear lobes and stood back from the mirror, eyeing herself. </p>
<p>Her hair was a curly mess. After Doug 2.0 had dumped her, she’d let her hair go wild, too heartbroken and depressed to give two poops about straightening it every morning. Everyone at work knew she’d been having a bad time because she’d arrived to work with her curls in a pile at the top of her head, shoved into a bun because she’d forgotten how to even manage her natural locks. Even Heather at the post office had known. “Bad breakup?” she’d asked, wincing. “Poor dear.”</p>
<p>Donna had every intention of straightening her hair again once she felt better, but then the thing with Dean happened and then happened <em>again, </em>and he’d made more than one comment about enjoying her mane of frizz and loops. Dean seemed to love touching her hair, winding his finger around the locks that framed her face…</p>
<p>And most importantly, <em>she</em> loved her natural hair. It had always been her favourite feature. It’d been quite a damper on self-esteem when her rude sister had mocked her into straightening it...</p>
<p>Maybe if Dean liked her hair, Jeremy would, too. He had to, didn’t he? He’d asked her out as she’d peered up at him through curls fallen in her face from a loose bun.</p>
<p>“Hair up or down?” she pondered under her breath, dragging her fingers through her hair, pulling bunches away from her face, gathering it behind her head as she did a half-turn, eyeing her side-silhouette in the dress she wore, watching her long curls nearly touching her waist. Her hair had really grown quite long now that she’d stopped murdering it with heat…</p>
<p>“Down,” she decided. Didn’t want to look like she cared <em>too much</em>. </p>
<p>Of course, a dress and earrings was the exception. She wanted to look <em>nice</em>, at least. It wasn’tmuch, just a little something she’d had gathering dust in the back of her closet. She was taking Jeremy to a rather nice-ish restaurant and <em>he</em> dressed sharply even when simply at the precinct. </p>
<p>Now, Donna was ready an hour before she’d meant to, and that’d done nothing but leave her in a bundle of nerves. Nerves that made her jump a foot in the air when her phone abruptly started ringing.</p>
<p>Oh no. Maybe it was Jeremy. Maybe he was going to cancel. Maybe he’d changed his mind. </p>
<p>Her feet carried her quickly from the bathroom to the bedroom, preemptive embarrassment rising in her chest at the inevitable rejection…</p>
<p>But once the phone was in her hand, she blinked, perplexed. It wasn’t Jeremy at all, rather, the opposite.</p>
<p>Sitting on the edge of her bed, Donna stared down at her phone, seeing Dean’s name. Her very first instinct was to answer it, her heart doing an excited skip, but...she was going on a date with another guy.</p>
<p>A guy she was entirely entitled to date. It was part of her and Dean’s arrangement; no commitment, no attachments… Freedom.</p>
<p>Her palm hot, Donna’s finger hovered over the red button on the phone, but after a quick change of heart, she swiped over the green option and raised her phone to her ear.</p>
<p>“Well, well, well, lookie who’s callin little ol’ me’,” Donna said fondly into the phone. “Haven’t heard from you in a few days.”</p>
<p>Dean’s deep chuckle warmed her heart over the phone. “Sup, Dons? Yeah, sorry that I’ve been AWOL. Soon as I got back, Sam and Eileen were heading out on a case. I third-wheeled it, and we ended up spending a lot more time than we’d liked in the sewers of bum-fuck somewhere over in Nevada. The signal was pretty choppy.” </p>
<p>“Sounds like a great time,” said Donna with a sigh, laying back on the bed, her hair blowing out over the sheets, her toes grazing the floor over the side. “Where are you now?”</p>
<p>“Ah, just hanging out in the bunker. Sam and Eileen are feeling guilty over forgetting my birthday last weekend, so they’re making what smells like steak.” She heard Dean sniff and then he added, sounding pleased, “Yeah, I sure hope it’s steak. Though, they’ll have to make a mean one if they’re hoping to compare to the dinner we had. Those burgers were amazing.”</p>
<p>Donna grinned at the ceiling, biting her lip. “Just the burgers were amazing? I’ll make sure to tell my vagina that she comes in close second to fried ground beef patties.”</p>
<p>“Oh my <em>God,”</em> Dean laughed, and it sounded like he was trying to muffle it. She could picture him putting a hand over his mouth, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Don’t tell her that. Tell her I miss her and would rather eat her all day than burgers, you sicko.”</p>
<p>While he was only meaning to be funny, Donna felt a pulse between her legs, and her pussy tightened in a thrilled pulsing sensation, recalling Dean between her thighs last weekend, more than once… He’d even eaten her out in the very position she was lying in, in that very spot…</p>
<p>“Tell her yourself,” Donna replied, trying to be funny, but her voice was hoarse.</p>
<p>Dean made a small noise of surprise, a throaty, aborted inhale. Then she heard a door close through the receiver and he asked, “Oh yeah?”</p>
<p>Oh, lordie. What was she doing? </p>
<p>“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe tell her when you’re coming over for dinner next. She misses you.”</p>
<p>What the ever-living, flippin’-maple-fudge was she doing? Donna hadn’t ever spoken to anyone like this. But...the whole schtick about the arrangement between them was that they wouldn't judge each other...</p>
<p>“Tell her…” Dean said, clearing his throat. “Tell her I could be there whenever she wanted.”</p>
<p>Sucking in an audible breath, Donna grasped the phone hard and tugged at one of the hard cloth buttons holding her dress together, rolling it between her fingers idly. </p>
<p>“She wants to know,” Donna said slowly, swallowing thickly, “what you’re gonna do to me next visit? She’s asking for a friend.” Donna paused, then whispered playfully, “<em>I’m</em> the friend.”</p>
<p>“<em>Okay</em>…” </p>
<p>He paused, and Donna pulled her hand away from the button, raising her palm to her eyes. Dean was totally not into this. She felt like an idiot. “You know what,” Donna began to say, “I-I—”</p>
<p>“You tell her before I reveal any secrets, I wanna know what you’re wearing.”</p>
<p>“A dress,” Donna replied after a pause, guilt shoving its way between Dean’s voice and her spark of arousal. <em>A dress I’m wearing for my date with someone else. </em>“A-A dress. Short-ish. It’s got short sleeves, kinda ruffly, and, um, it’s fitted until my waist, and flares out at my hips. It’s got buttons from the v-neckline down to the bottom. Was a real pain to do up, in all honesty—”</p>
<p>“What colour?”</p>
<p>“Black.”</p>
<p>“Ooo, nice,” Dean purred. “How short?”</p>
<p>Donna raised her head, glancing down at herself, and she wobbled her head a bit in consideration before it dropped back down onto the bed. “Just above the knee, maybe a bit higher. Mid-thigh?”</p>
<p>“Machine washable?”</p>
<p>“...uh, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Did you get it on sale?”</p>
<p>It was then that Donna realised he was teasing her, and not in a sexy way. “<em>Dean!” </em>she cried. “Don’t make fun, you doofus! I’ve never done this before! I-I’m not sure how detailed I gotta be!”</p>
<p>Dean’s laughter, while it was light-heartedly at her expense, warmed her back up and made her <em>almost </em>forget about her date. His booming laugh had her grinning at the ceiling, her hand back on her stomach, fiddling with one of the small buttons.</p>
<p>“Sounds pretty, Donna. I’m just being a jerk. Here. How about you tell me where you are?”</p>
<p>“South Dakota.”</p>
<p>“<em>Donna. </em>I swear to G—”</p>
<p>“I’m in bed. Lying down.”</p>
<p>“Mmm, okay, me too. You...uh, got that little vibrator we used a few weeks back? The short blue one with the curve and that bulb on the end?”</p>
<p>She felt nervous, but the spark of excitement grew inside her chest and she felt warmth between her legs. “I...could get it.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, why don’t you get it and then lay back down?”</p>
<p>“Okie dokes, please hold.” </p>
<p>Donna set the phone down quietly above her head and then rolled onto her side, rifling through her side drawer to find the toy. It wasn’t hard to find; she only had the one. The other toys were Dean’s, or rather, the ones she’d bought for their sexcapades last weekend. The one jet black dildo had been for her but when he’d asked for it to be used on him, she couldn’t say no. Rather, she didn’t <em>want </em>to say no. Fucking him with it had been mind-blowingly erotic. She’d nearly come hands-free, just watching his ass stretched around it, wet and glistening—</p>
<p>“Got it!” she said, flopping onto her back again and bringing the phone to her ear. “Got it. What...um… What are <em>you</em> wearing?”</p>
<p>“Jeans,” Dean replied. “And a black t-shirt.”</p>
<p>She knew the one. Plain. Soft. Thin. It hugged his shoulders and chest tightly, but flowed down from his chest, puddling over his hips just atop his jeans. </p>
<p>“Are you lyin’ down in bed, too?”</p>
<p>“Mhmn. I, uh, just undid my jeans. Thinking of touching myself a bit. What’d you think?”</p>
<p><em>Oh, fudge yeah. </em>“I think that’s swell.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’ll swell,” Dean chuckled. “Now, forget about that vibrator for a sec. We were talking about something else before.”</p>
<p><em>Sam and Eileen?</em> Donna frowned at the phone, her eyes narrowing. But Dean went on before she could speak up and embarrass herself.</p>
<p>“You were asking what I want to do to you?” </p>
<p>Donna nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her and added in a breath, “Yes.”</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t got hands in South Dakota right now, Donna, so you’re gonna have to help me out.”</p>
<p>“Anything you want,” she replied, her hand uncurling from the button at her stomach, her palm flat against the soft cotton of her dress. “Go on.”</p>
<p>“Right, well, you know I got a thing for your thighs. I think if I was there with you now…I think I’d run my hands over the insides of your legs. Slow. Soft. I’d drag ‘em down until…”</p>
<p>Donna did as she was told, pulling her legs up so her feet were curled around the edge of the mattress, her knees bent and spread. Her dress puddled down around her hips and she shut her eyes. Sliding her hands up the front of her thighs to her knees, she made her way back down, slowly, gently pulling her fingertips over the inside of her legs. She was sensitive there; her own touch electrified her, and her imagination ran wild, imagining Dean down there, kneeled between her legs, his hands drawing patterns over her skin. As her fingers felt the warmth from between her legs, she dragged a finger over her underwear—</p>
<p>“Don't touch yourself yet,” Dean purred. “You’re not allowed. Just...run your hands over your legs and your stomach. Maybe pull your dress up a little. Make room for my mouth. I wanna kiss you all over, maybe I want to lick that spot you like, right on your hip. Maybe I wanna bite a little…”</p>
<p>How did he expect her not to touch herself? She’d have to change out of these underwear, they were wet now, warm… She pressed her knees together to stop herself, her breath picking up into the phone as she moved her dress out of the way and dragged her fingers over the cleft where her thighs met her pelvis.</p>
<p>She still had a love bite from Dean down there. Her fingers brushed it and she shuddered.</p>
<p>“How you feeling, Dons?”</p>
<p>“Tingling,” she whispered, her skin humming when she imagined him kissing her, his lips brushing her skin around her navel, his tongue dragging up her sternum—</p>
<p>“You’re breathing harder,” Dean noticed. “I bet you’re all wet for me.”</p>
<p>“So wet,” she confirmed, her knees pressed together tightly, feeling nearly bruising. “Are you hard?”</p>
<p>“Fuck yeah,” Dean groaned.</p>
<p>“Are you—” She paused, then made a decision and continued. “Are you<em> fucking </em>your fist yet? You imagining being inside me?”</p>
<p>The porn research. It was paying off. She was fairly certain the things she was saying were hot.</p>
<p>Dean seemed to think so, because his breath picked up too, and he panted into the phone for a second. “N-No. But I was rubbing my cock over my—mmmmph—j-jeans. You...want me to fuck my fist, Donna?”</p>
<p>She breathed slowly through a pinhole between her lips. She shook her head. “Not yet, not until you can’t help yourself. I want you to drag your nails over your nipples, Dean. Rub them for me. Pretend… Pretend I’ve got my mouth on them.”</p>
<p>Dean moaned into the phone, and his breath hitched—he was touching his nipples, she just knew it. He always made that noise when she licked at his nipples, when she pulled on them lightly with her teeth.</p>
<p>“Does that feel good?” she asked, feeling her confidence swelling as he breathed hard into the phone. </p>
<p>“Fuck, Donna. God. Yeah, it does. Feels so fuckin’ good.”</p>
<p>Donna kept running her hand over her skin, curling her knuckles until her nails were leaving red lines over her thighs, which she spread again, allowing herself once more to touch the inside of her legs. They trembled, and her hips jerked off the bed when her pussy squeezed, liquid dribbling over her lips, soaking into her underwear.</p>
<p>“Dean, I-I wanna touch myself so badly.”</p>
<p>“Wait,” he gulped. “Just wait. Undo the top buttons of your dress. O-Open it. Pull out those tits—”</p>
<p>‘Ugh, I hate that word, Dean.” </p>
<p>“What word should I use?”</p>
<p>She sighed. “Okay, tits works. I guess boobies ain’t too sexy, is it?”</p>
<p>“Listen, I’ll call ‘em fluffy, fwuffy, schmoopy mountains of pillowy goodness—whatever you want—if you just pull them out and massage them for me, okay, Donna?”</p>
<p>Despite being one of the hottest experiences of her adult life, the mood was paused for just a moment as they both broke into a fit of chuckles and giggles.</p>
<p>“Tits is fine, Dean,” Donna whimpered, wiping amused tears from her eyes. “I can do tits for now. Just don’t call them titties, fer Pete’s sake.”</p>
<p>Dean caught his breath, too, remnants of giggles still dancing in his tone. “Okay, okay, no titties. We good?”</p>
<p>Putting him on speaker and resting him on her chest, Donna nodded and breathed as she undid the top buttons, exposing her breasts, “We’re good.”</p>
<p>“You massaging them for me?” asked Dean, the breathy quality to his voice returning quickly. </p>
<p>She certainly was. She imagined his big, warm hands on her breasts, kneading them with the perfect pressure, pressing them together as he kissed the swells at the top near her collarbone, as he licked at her nipples or right down the middle of her cleavage. Without being told, she dipped her fingers into her mouth and then brought them back down, sliding them around her nipples, drawing a long moan from deep in her throat.</p>
<p>“That’s it, girl,” Dean groaned. She heard his bed creak, and he whimpered. “Donna… Donna, fuck, I’d love to be kissing you right now. Tasting you.”</p>
<p>“Wish you were here to fuck me, Dean,” Donna whispered, her knees pressing together as she nearly forgot his orders and pressed her hand against her hot, wet pussy through her underwear. </p>
<p>“You wearing underwear, Donna?” Dean asked, his gulp audible through the phone on her chest.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Donna keaned, her voice high, her breaths wheezing. “I-I can’t wait, Dean. Please. I-I’m touching myself through my underwear, but they’re soaked. Please—”</p>
<p>“Do it. Slide your hand under and rub that clit, Donna. In circles, soft, just like when I lick that pussy clean.”</p>
<p>High, stuttered whimpers escaped her throat as did as she was told. “Oh, ya. Dean. Dean. DeanDean<em>Dean</em>—”</p>
<p>“Tell me what to do, Donna,” Dean begged, his voice heady and needy. “Tell me.”</p>
<p>“T-Take out your cock, Dean. Spit in your hand and fuck it—” She have to wash her mouth out with soap after this. This was naughty. So <em>fucking</em> naughty. “Imagine my mouth all around you, Dean. God, <em>fuck</em>. Unngh. I love to suck your cock, Dean. It’s s-so thick.”</p>
<p>“Fuck, I’d love to see your lips stretched around my cock, Donna—”</p>
<p>“My mouth would feel so warm,” Donna whispered, her breaths punched out of her as her fingers slid across her clit and dipped inside her, just for a moment, her muscles squeezing, pressure building, building, building…</p>
<p>“I wanna fuck you so bad,” Dean groaned. “D-Donna, pull those underwear around your knees and grab that vibrator. God… Fuck… Fuck… T-Turn it on and—”</p>
<p>She was way ahead of him. Underwear around her knees, restraining their movement, she turned on the vibrator over the phone, the buzzing noise eliciting a moan from them both. Slick beyond comprehension, she slipped the toy inside herself, her muscles clamping down around it as it vibrated inside her, the sensation so strong that she felt it in her legs.</p>
<p>“Talk to me, Donna.”</p>
<p>“I’m not gonna last long,” she whined, rocking the toy in and out of her body, her hips hitching when the bulb on the end of the toy rumbled against her g-spot. </p>
<p>“Me either,” Dean growled. Donna could hear the slick sounds of him pumping at his cock, the audio slightly changed as he put her on speaker. “God, Donna, I wanna hear you come.”</p>
<p>That didn’t take long. Minutes passed as they mumbled naughty words to each other, their breathing becoming louder, more desperate.</p>
<p>Before Donna could stop herself, she buried the vibrator deep inside her and rocked it up, tapping at her g-pot in perfect rhytmn, her knees pulled close to her chest, her fingers rubbing side to side over her clit, the slick sound of Dean fucking himself pushing her over the edge. Her muscles spasmed and she cried out, tossing her head back against the bed, her back arching. “<em>Dean!</em> DeanohGodDean<em>oh</em>—”</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>fuck</em>, Donna, I’m gonna come—”</p>
<p>They both orgamsed in sync, Dean groaning—long, deep, rumbling—while Donna whined, her breaths escaping in a long whine as her body shuddered through her orgasm.</p>
<p>“Holy shit,” Dean gasped as they both came down. </p>
<p>There was a slick <em>pop!</em> as Donna pulled out the vibrator and she clicked it off, tossing it behind her on the bed. The duvet under her ass was soaking wet and she pushed the underwear off her knees, kicking them off her ankle, uncaring that they were lost somewhere in her room now. </p>
<p>“I’m so glad you called,” Donna mumbled. “Nice of you to check up on me.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dean muttered right back. “Good chat.”</p>
<p>They both laughed, breathless. But the amusement was short lived as reality came back to her, filling the space inside her as her ecstasy faded away. She groaned as she pushed herself up, shuffling over to sit off to the side, off the puddle she’d created. She fixed her hair and stared down at the crumpled underwear now shoved up against her hamper.</p>
<p>She was going on a date with another guy, she realised, now feeling doubly guilty as they shared an awkward silence over the phone. She was going to be opening herself up to another guy romantically in less than an hour...</p>
<p>“That was fun,” Dean added, sounding unsure. “I, uh, hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”</p>
<p>“No!” Donna said quickly, shaking her head, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. “No, no. I just… It’s my fault, I started it. I, um… Why <em>did </em>you call? I suppose I sorta side-tracked us.”</p>
<p>“Oh, uh…” Dean cleared his throat, his breath still uneven. “I called to just let you know I wasn’t ignoring your messages, I guess. And, uh, I guess I just wanted to thank you again for last weekend. I got a bit awkward at the end there, I’m… Um, I’m sorry about that. Been bugging me that I don’t think I thanked you right. I’m no good at stuff like that. Just, uh… Thanks for what you did, anyway.”</p>
<p>Donna got up, glancing at the clock, noticing she had twenty minutes to clean herself up and fix her damn hair again. She walked into the bathroom, leaning over the counter, wiping at mascara that she’d managed to smudge somehow. </p>
<p>“Oh, the sex? What,” she teased, licking at her finger and rubbing it under her eye, “never role played before?”</p>
<p>“No, not the sex stuff. I-uh-I… You just know how to make a guy feel special. I… It was really something. It’s been a long time since someone was so nice to me like that.”</p>
<p>He sounded awkward. If she didn't know any better, he sounded self-conscious, but Donna wasn’t too focused on that. She’d stopped wiping at her eyes and was gripping the edge of her sink. </p>
<p>He was so thankful and she...<em>she </em>was so into him. </p>
<p>Oh, God. Her stomach tightened and her heart did a backflip. If she was being entirely honest with herself, she’d been <em>so </em>into him for a while, and not in the friends-with-benefits variety. </p>
<p>She’d… </p>
<p>Oh, poo. </p>
<p>She’d been falling for Dean Winchester for  a while.</p>
<p>And he didn't want that. That <em>wasn’t </em>their arrangement. He was emotionally unavailable and she was betraying him by even feeling like this.</p>
<p>“I’m going on a date,” Donna blurted out. Immediately, she pressed her hand to her mouth and shook her head.</p>
<p>Dean was silent on the other end for a beat too long.</p>
<p>Nerves filled her mouth with words and she couldn’t stop them from pouring out. “I met him at work and he asked me out, and gosh, I said yes, and um—”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Dean said after a moment, his voice light. “Good for you, Dons. That’s great news.”</p>
<p>Again, they shared a silence. Donna blinked at herself in the mirror, and she had to admit, she looked stunned. </p>
<p>“Oh,” she said slowly. Dean didn’t care. He didn't mind. “Oh, well, yeah. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“You guys going out for dinner? Movies? Spill the deets.”</p>
<p>Scrunching at her hair, feeling perplexed, and hurt, and relieved all at once, she choked out, “Dinner. A little place downtown.”</p>
<p>“Nice,” Dean said quickly. “Look at you, getting back in the dating scene.”</p>
<p>He seemed so...calm. His voice was steady. Meanwhile, Donna’s heart was pounding and her hands were sweating. She’d expected him to get angry. But of course, that wouldn’t make sense. They weren’t dating, he had no claim over her, nor her over him. It made sense that he was calm. He wasn’t attached.</p>
<p>Not like she was.</p>
<p>“We should stop this,” she said quietly, staring down at the sink. “We shouldn’t...be fudge buddies no more, Dean.”</p>
<p><em>Now </em>she felt a strangeness in the silence. Now it would make sense for him to be angry. However, Dean just made a noise in his throat and then said with a laugh in his voice, “Hey, no worries. You wanna give work-boy a shot, I get it.”</p>
<p>Fudge <em>him</em>. So nice. So thoughtful. So understanding. It was infuriating, but...<em>this </em>was why she adored him, why he was her best friend. He never judged her, never got angry at her. Never made her be anything she wasn’t.</p>
<p>“So you’re...okay with that?” she asked slowly.</p>
<p>“You gotta do what’s best for you, Donna,” he said. “We knew this wasn’t gonna last forever… It’s cool.”</p>
<p>She had to do this, she told herself. She was falling for him. She’d thought she could have emotionless sex, but she couldn’t, it turned out. Not with him. It meant more. It’d begun to mean more before she had even realised it.</p>
<p>“Dean—”</p>
<p>“I gotta go,” Dean said quickly. “Sorry, D-Train. Sam and Eileen are calling. Text me later and let me know how your date went.”</p>
<p>Donna stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes a bit watery. With her chin trembling, she nodded, and she forced herself to smile so when she spoke she’d sound convincing. </p>
<p>“You...betcha.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. What Are Friends For?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wow, you guys are all lame,” Claire declared, looking around at everyone as Jody plopped a cake down in front of her, all twenty candles glowing under her face. Despite her sass, her eyes sparkled at her birthday cake and she was having trouble not smiling as she looked around to everyone.</p>
<p>“Don’t be a brat,” Dean said, grinning, gesturing at her with his beer. “Blow out those damn candles. Jody and Alex spent all day baking it for you.”</p>
<p>“Is that why you and Sam insisted on taking me to the arcade for like, four hours? I knew it was sus.” Claire rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>“Claire,” Castiel said seriously from the stool behind her, leaning on the kitchen island, gesturing with a finger at her cake. “You should blow out the candles before too much wax lands on the icing. Humans can digest it, but the gastro-intestinal consequences could be uncomfortable.”</p>
<p>“Gross,” Claire said, but her teeth flashed between her lips as she grinned and she leaned forward, eyeing the black cake and the goofy pictures of bats and vampires doodled in icing by Alex. </p>
<p>“Make a wish,” Donna said from beside Claire, giving her shoulders a squeeze.</p>
<p>Dean stared at Donna’s smiling face, watching her brown eyes glitter over the flickering flames, her curls tumbled down around her face, cascading down her back and around her shoulders, pinned up with bobby pins at her crown. She looked pretty. So pretty. </p>
<p>He was reminded of her face as she’d whispered to him, too; <em>“Happy birthday, D. Go on, blow out the candle and make a wish."</em></p>
<p>Claire blew on her candles, and everyone clapped, but Dean looked away, smiling tightly at his beer and willing his stupid fucking heart to stop aching like it was bruised.</p>
<p>“What’d you wish for?” Sam asked, snorting when Claire rolled her eyes at him, too.</p>
<p>Dean rolled the bottom of the beer bottle against the counter and he said, “If you tell us, it won’t come true.” Which, of course, was bullshit. He hadn’t told anyone what he’d wished for when he’d blown out his candle and that wish most <em>certainly </em>had not come true.</p>
<p>When he pulled his eyes up, everyone was reaching for a paper plate while Jody slid the cake towards her, cutting-knife ready, but Donna was looking at him with a tight smile on her face. It was difficult to see her after a month had passed since their last phone call. They’d texted, of course. Dean didn’t want to alarm her, he didn’t want her knowing that the ending of their casual sex fling had put him in a pretty rough depression. He hadn’t left the bunker, except to hit up the local bar again, hoping to drown his sorrows.</p>
<p>That hadn’t really helped. Catherine had been there with her new boyfriend, dancing and drinking and fucking everyone up in the weekend darts tourniment.</p>
<p>Dean had been pretty drunk for the last month.  </p>
<p>“This better be chocolate cake, or I’m cancelling my birthday,” Claire said, watching Jody slice into the cake with a bit too much eagerness for a totally-cool-college-kid-who-was-too-cool-for-birthdays.</p>
<p>“It’s chocolate,” Cas confirmed, eyes narrowed at the cake. “The molecular structure couldn’t be anything else.”</p>
<p>Everyone else groaned, and Jody smacked Cas in the arm, hissing, “Spoilers!”, but Dean laughed, grinning at his friend.</p>
<p>Cas grinned back, the expression a rarity on his face, but always welcome; brows raised slightly, his smile crooked, teeth white, eyes all crinkly. Like it did for Donna—but faded now for Cas—Dean’s heart did a little squeeze at the smile. What he’d felt for Cas, it’d been...monumental, really. Cas had been the first love of his life, the first person (technically) to help Dean realise he was capable of the emotion outside of a familial capacity.</p>
<p>Cas had also been the first to teach him that when the feeling wasn’t really reciprocated, that it hurt like a bitch. Cas was half the reason Dean didn’t indulge in relationships at all. Cas was the reason he wasn’t emotionally available for anyone. Everyone before him had been Dean’s attempt to make a meaningful connection, and everyone after him had been Dean’s attempt to bury that meaningful connection.</p>
<p>It wasn’t really Cas’ fault. Their timing had been all wrong. Other shit had been more important; Sam, Lisa, the apocalypse, the Leviathans, Crowley, the Mark of Cain, blah, blah-blah, blahblahblah<em>blah</em>—</p>
<p>“Cake?” Alex offered, raising her brows to Dean and wiggling a plate at him. “It’s chocolate.”</p>
<p>Dean nodded at her, setting down his beer. “Hell yes I want cake. Thanks.”</p>
<p>“Let’s move into the living room,” Jody said as everyone started to chat. “There’s not only too many cooks in the kitchen, but like five more bodies than this room has capacity for. It’s boiling in here and I wanna clean up this mess—”</p>
<p>“I’ll clean, Jodes,” Donna volunteered, clapping Jody’s ass as she passed her. “Sit your bum down and enjoy the one-of-a-kind molecular structure you made.”</p>
<p>Jody snorted and shoved a forkful of cake into her mouth. Thickly, she exclaimed, “Don’t need to tell me twice!”</p>
<p>Everyone followed orders, filtering into the living room and dispersing around it, settled on couches. The TV flickered on and the sounds of Die Hard filled the living room, albeit a bit muffled from the kitchen, but Dean could identify that movie anywhere. </p>
<p>Sam lingered, and pointed at the mess of bowls and ladles in the sink. “Donna, you need help?”</p>
<p>Donna waved at him with a washcloth she’d plucked from the handle of the stove. “Nah, you go enjoy the eats, Sam. I’ve got it.”</p>
<p>“You sure? I—”</p>
<p><em>Don’t do it,</em> <em>you idiot, you fuckin masochist, </em>Dean hissed at himself. But he slid off his stool, abandoning his slice of cake and ignoring the rational voice in his brain as he moved around the counter, waving Sam off. <em>Don’t do it. Dean, do not— </em></p>
<p>“Scram, Sammy. I’ll help Donna in here,” he said cheerfully, hating himself. “Eileen probably needs saving from the girls. They’ve been bugging me for details about your new gal pal, and now that she’s here, I’m sure they won’t leave her alone.”</p>
<p>Donna smiled over her shoulder at him and Dean winked back, ignoring the horrible clenching of his stomach. </p>
<p>“Thanks, D,” Donna said.</p>
<p>He grabbed the cloth for drying from the countertop and scoffed. “No problemo, girl.”</p>
<p>Sam’s lips were all twisted and his eyebrows were raised. “You? Offering to do dishes? Since <em>when?</em>”</p>
<p>“Since I haven’t seen D-Train in a while and wanna catch up, that’s what,” Dean growled at Sam.”Fuck off, bitch.”</p>
<p>“Cool your jets, jerk,” Sam snapped back, but seemed happy to go sit by Eileen in the living room, shoveling big forkfuls of chocolate cake into his mouth on the way. </p>
<p>With Sam gone, it was just Donna and Dean together. Alone in the same room for the first time since his birthday. They were talking one-on-one since she’d ended their arrangement. </p>
<p>They smiled at each other and got to work, Donna turning on the tap and Dean flexing his drying rag in his hands, totally in a not-completely-nervous manner.</p>
<p>“So,” Dean started, “how you been? What’s going on in the world of Donna Hanscum?”</p>
<p>“Busy,” Donna said cheerfully as she scrubbed at the first dish. “Been workin’ double shifts ‘cause I’m going on a trip in a month or so, so I need to make up the hours. And my niece graduated from high school so that’s real nice.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Don’t ask, Dean. Do not ask—</em>
</p>
<p>“How’s dating work-boy going?” Deak asked, flashing Donna what he hoped was a charming grin.</p>
<p>Donna blushed and she shrugged a shoulder, doing that thing where she tried to look coy but was <em>really </em>excited about something. “Oh, ya know. Pretty…” her eyes lit up and she beamed up at him. “...darn amazing!”</p>
<p><em>Oh, hell no. </em>“Oh, hell yeah, girl!” Dean said, whistling and bumping his hip to Donna’s, taking a clean wet dish from her and beginning to dry it. “Tell me everything. Did he make the first move? You guys go to second base yet? <em>Is his dick nice?”</em></p>
<p>Donna tipped her head back and laughed, her dimple looking extra cute today. Why? He wasn’t sure. She just looked really fucking good today and the dimple wasn’t any exception. </p>
<p>“Oh, Dean!” she snorted, smacking him with the washcloth. “You nosy parker!”</p>
<p>“Come on,” Dean urged, grinning even though he felt like his face was going to split in two. “Spare no expense on the details. If I don’t get laid anymore because of this guy, I wanna know details at least.”</p>
<p>There. He’d acknowledged it. It was easier if he acknowledged it, because then he could poke fun at their situation. If he could poke fun at it, she’d never know he was fucking crushed.</p>
<p>Donna’s little laugh of alarm was high, bursting from her like she was shocked he’d had the gall to mention their arrangement. “Oh, you! You’re gettin’ laid, don’t lie!”</p>
<p>There was little opportunity to get laid in the bunker where he’d been burrowed, and even fewer at the bar where all he did was get drunk at the counter and then taxi home cursing Catherine’s name after watching her suck face with her new boyfriend.</p>
<p>“I’ve been busy!” he lied. “Cut a guy some slack. Anyway, you’re not getting out of this one, Donna. Come on. Work-guy.”</p>
<p>She smiled fondly down at the bowl she was scrubbing with a soapy sponge. “Okie dokies. <em>Well</em>, his name is Jeremy. He’s moved here real fresh, just like me. And ya wouldn’t believe it, but he’s separated from his ex recently, and moved here to be closer to his brother.”</p>
<p>“And he works with you?”</p>
<p>“Sure does. New records clerk. Spends mosta his time bumblin’ around in the filing cabinets. It’s not glamourous, but he does a great job. Jer is real organized.”</p>
<p>Jer. What a stupid name.</p>
<p>“And his dick?” Dean asked in a whisper, leaning down to bump shoulders with her.</p>
<p>Donna snorted and looked up at him, raising a brow. “None of that yet, Dean. Jeremy is a gentleman. He’s asked but I said no. I...didn’t wanna complicate it with sex yet.”</p>
<p>Hint taken. Dean stood up straight and nodded shortly, focusing on the mug he was drying. “Right. Yeah. Well, Donna...I’m, uh, happy you’re dating. Getting out there, you know? Doing whatever makes you happy and stuff…”</p>
<p>“What about you?” Donna asked, glancing over her shoulder into the living room. “You, uh…” She glanced back up at him. “You seein’ anyone?”</p>
<p>The bark of laughter that escaped from his throat surprised even him. But he rolled with it, shaking his head. “Hell no. I’m too busy.”</p>
<p>“Come on, Dean,” Donna giggled. “Get you someone who understands you, who’s in the life.”</p>
<p>He already knew someone like that. His heart ached standing so close to her and yet feeling like she was so far away. It was so damn cliche, he wanted to vomit.</p>
<p>“A pipe dream, that’s what that is,” he muttered, setting another dry dish on the counter to put away later.</p>
<p>“S’not a pipe dream,” Donna scolded, thwapping him on the shoulder. “You should try asking Cas out, if ya haven’t already.”</p>
<p>Dean’s heart plummeted down through his stomach, crashed and bounced around in his intestines, and then dropped out of his ass, landing with a bloody splat on the floor. </p>
<p>“Wha—What? I mean, uh...what?” </p>
<p>Donna rolled her eyes. “Oh, you doof. We all knew how you felt ‘bout him. None of us were born yesterday, ya know! He knows. Cas knows.”</p>
<p>Dean nearly choked on air, and just settled for staring wide-eyed at the dish in his hand, scrubbing it in circles although it was way past dried. “Cas does not know. No one knows.”</p>
<p>“Everyone knows.”</p>
<p>Dean set the dish aside and turned towards Donna, resting his hip on the edge of the counter. He was hyper aware of Cas in the background behind her, settled on the couch, probably squinting at John McClean and not eating any cake.</p>
<p>“No one knows,” Dean repeated, but weaker.</p>
<p>Donna grinned side-long at him, passing a dripping glass his way. “You weren’t good at hiding it. Ya say you were over it a while ago, but even a year ago, I knew there was something lingerin’ between you. Whether it was fresh feelings or old ones, everyone knew. Jodes said Sam never stopped talkin’ about it. The goo-goo eyes, and the big ol’ sacrifices, and the married couple fights—”</p>
<p>“Okay, okay, okay,” Dean said, talking over her, trying so hard to shove that embarrassing blush from his cheeks. He turned back towards the sink, swirling the drying cloth around the inside of the glass. “I got it, everyone knew.”</p>
<p>“Everyone knew,” Donna confirmed, looking proud of herself. “Anyhoo, I don’t think it’s too late, if you wanted…”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Dean said, trying to laugh, but it came out as a little huff. He shrugged. “Those feelings for him aren’t there anymore. Shit got complicated and they faded. He’s my best friend, but...nah.”</p>
<p>The stream of water stopped running after Donna shut off the faucet  and she wiped at her hands with an abandoned rag on the counter. With a warm smile and a small wink, she said quietly, “Doncha worry, Dean. Someone good will come your way.”</p>
<p>With the sink now empty, she walked around him, head tipped down, and Dean was left standing alone in the kitchen, staring at Cas and wishing there were any feelings other than grief swirling in his chest.</p>
<p>Picking his heart up off the floor, Dean forced himself to grab his piece of cake, and he joined his family in the living room, sitting as far from Cas and Donna as humanly possible.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>February turned to March and the remaining snow on the ground in South Dakota turned from white and fluffy to heavy and brown. But the nearly perpetual greyness hardly bothered Donna. Life was good. Her and Jeremy had been seeing more and more of each other, and she’d really put herself out there, inviting him to her father’s birthday up in Minnesota. It’d be nice for him to see his own family that lived a state over and he hadn’t seen in months, and she’d finally get a chance to show her own that she was doing all right.</p>
<p>She <em>really</em> wanted to show her family that she was doing all right. Specifically, her sister, who had a rich husband and three kids, all of which were in private school, and getting straight A’s. She drove an expensive car and had a three-door garage, and a gate that opened via voice command.</p>
<p>That gate was so damn cool.</p>
<p>Her sister also had the habit of pointing out every one of Donna’s flaws, which she did out of love, but her love was weirdly sarcastic and sharp. Weird kinda love, really.</p>
<p>But Donna put up with it for her parents, specifically her father, who had stayed home to raise them while her mother worked. Her father taught her how to do long division, and how to fish, and how to hunt. He took her on solo ice fishing trips, and never made her feel bad when she didn’t catch anything, or fell asleep curled in his lap as a child. While her mother lovingly, but misguidedly tried to get her to lose weight because she didn’t want her to be teased, her father had never once made a comment about how she looked. He just loved her and cared for her, and always had a terrible joke up his sleeve when she felt like no one in the world thought she was worthy. </p>
<p>When she’d graduated from college, she’d had her eye on a blue sparkly dress to wear to the reception dinner. It’d been short and maybe a bit flashy for the occasion, but after police academy and the training she’d gone through, she deserved a little pick-me-up. Or so she thought until her sister suggested that she wear something black and flared at the waist as to not accentuate her ‘unfavourable features’.</p>
<p>Donna had woken up the morning of her graduation to find the boring black dress on the snowman outside, and a box at the foot of her bed with the blue sparkling dress in it with a note addressed to her.</p>
<p>
  <em>So proud of you, baby. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Love, </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Your Dope Hip as Heck Daddio</em>
</p>
<p>Now, she had the rest of the day off. She’d booked it to do the last of her packing and to buy any last minute knick knacks for her family, as she liked to do, but Donna had been so excited last night that she hadn’t slept. Her packing had been done by morning.</p>
<p>She spun on her computer chair and snatched up her phone from the desk. Dialing Jeremy, she held the phone to her ear and looked up at the ceiling as she turned opposite the direction of the ceiling fan over her.</p>
<p>It rang for a while, and she was about to hang up when she heard Jeremy answer.</p>
<p>“Donna, hi.”</p>
<p>She grinned. “Hiya, Jer. Listen, I double checked and our flight is on time. Noon tomorrow! Hah, hope you’re ready! You won’t be able to sleep in until one PM like usual—”</p>
<p>Jeremy sighed. “We gotta break up.”</p>
<p>Donna smirked at the ceiling. “Ya think you’re real funny, doncha? It’s no worse than when you got me up on my one Sunday off last month to drag me to mini-golf.”</p>
<p>“Donna,” Jeremy said, and she could hear his wince through the phone. “I’m...not joking. I got a job back home. And I...I think I’m getting back with my ex.”</p>
<p>Donna stopped spinning abruptly, slamming her foot into the spongy mat under her chair, but her brain kept spinning and she had to grip the armrest to stop from falling. </p>
<p>“<em>What</em>?”</p>
<p>Jeremy sniffed and admitted, “I don’t like it here, Donna. I wanna move back home. I...I left to run away from my problems, but I think I gotta go back and sort them out instead. A lot of stuff in my old relationship is fixable. A-And my ex wants to fix it. We’re goin’ to therapy! Isn’t that great?”</p>
<p>Donna’s eyes darted around her cabin living room, determining where it was most ideal for her to throw up; outside in the brown mush of snow just off the porch, or in the kitchen sink?</p>
<p>“That’s great,” she squeaked weakly. “So great.”</p>
<p>“Real sorry, Donna.” </p>
<p>He was silent for a long while, perhaps waiting for her to speak. Donna just stared down at the ground where an ember had jumped out of the fireplace and burnt the hardwood a while back. It’d bounced off of Dean’s bare ass and left a mark on his skin that he’d complained about for weeks, texting her occasionally to say his ass still hurt but not in the fun way.</p>
<p>“Donna, look...if you want me to still go with you—”</p>
<p>“Did I do something wrong?” Donna asked, her voice losing its high quality and falling a bit flatter as her eyes filled with tears. “I know there’s not much to do here, but I figured…”</p>
<p>“No, no, jee whizz, Don, no. I just—”</p>
<p>“Oh!” she burst out, shaking her fist. “Just tell me I did somethin’ wrong! Go on!”</p>
<p>“Donna, I—”</p>
<p>“I’m real sick of being alone just because the <em>situation </em>wasn’t right! I need to have done something wrong, so that I can have a reason to blame for why the heckin’ fuck I can’t keep a man!” she yelled, uncaring if he thought she was overreacting. Angry tears fell down her face and she stood. “If it’s not my ass, it’s eating habits, and if it’s not my eating habits, it’s because your ex is more appealing, and if it’s not an ex, it’s because the distance is too much, and because <em>I love cookie dough milkshakes—”</em></p>
<p>“I—Uh, oh jee, I dunno—” Jeremy sounded panicked. “Maybe...M-Maybe we hadn’t had sex? Maybe that’s it?”</p>
<p>Although she knew perfectly well that he was scrambling for something to say and likely didn’t mean it, it was still something to be mad at.</p>
<p>“Of course it was about sex!” she snapped, trudging around her living room. “Sex ruins everything, even when you’re not having it, don’t it!?”</p>
<p>“I-It’s not about sex, Donna. Dunno why I even said that—”</p>
<p>“<em>Goodbye, </em>Jeremy! Say hello to your ex for me, and...and...I hope you fall and skid yer knee!”</p>
<p>Jeremy’s voice got tinier and tinier as her phone flew across the room and then landed with a <em>thud</em> in a pile of blankets on an armchair.</p>
<p>As hot flashes shuddered through her body, Donna’s chin trembled and she blinked more tears onto her cheeks. She wrenched off her house coat as she swept into her bedroom and kicked off her slippers, uncaring as they thudded against the wall and fell into a mess on the floor.</p>
<p>She didn’t have time for Jeremy and his BS. Yes, was it lovely that he could fix things with his ex, that he could fix the now-near divorce had hurt him deeply. Yes, it was grand that he had found another job, one that had better hours, and probably gave him better benefits. She was damn happy for him, <em>sure</em>. And sure, yes, fine, it was nice that he’d moved closer to the rest of his family.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fine.</em>
</p>
<p>Donna stood in front of her bathroom mirror, staring at her pathetic reflection; red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, mascara a bit smudged and her nose lookin’ real Rudolph-the-Sad, Single Reindeer.</p>
<p>It was really nice that everything had worked out for Jeremy. Really.</p>
<p>She wiped at her cheeks and sniffled, feeling her anger dissipate. Still, it didn’t stop her heart from being broken. Again. She hadn’t been in love with Jeremy, but she’d figured over time she might’ve been able to…</p>
<p>On the topic, Donna walked back out into her living room and picked up her phone. Jeremy had hung up, but it didn’t matter. That wasn’t who she was calling anyway. She was gonna talk to someone who actually understood her.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Too bummed to leave the bunker, Dean stayed behind while Sam and Eileen went on a case. He was on research duty, but all he’d managed to do so far was open up the iPad and staring at the Yahoo News page while the whiskey in his hand got warm.</p>
<p>He really needed to get himself together or Sam and Eileen were gonna sniff him out. Sam would realise Dean was depressed again and try to get him to go do something fun. Dean shuddered at the idea of Sam awkwardly trying to drag him to a strip club or something to ‘cheer him up’. All Dean wanted to do was be alone in the bunker, where he could not-shower, stay in his pyjamas all day, and drink without Eileen or Sam giving him concerned-brows about it.</p>
<p>Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Quickly, he picked it up, his stupid, <em>stupid </em>heart hoping desperately that it’d be Donna.</p>
<p>His stupid, <em>stupid</em> heart did a backflip and jazzhands when her name popped up on his screen. </p>
<p>“Hello?” he picked up, speaking a bit too quickly. Immediately he placed his chin on his propped fist, half-trying to look casual for absolutely no one and also to give himself a subtle punch for being an uncool dweeb about Donna. “Yeah, hello. Hi. Donna?”</p>
<p>The other side was strangely quiet for a beat too long and Dean narrowed his eyes, wondering if he’d been a big enough idiot to wind himself up over a butt-dial, but then Donna spoke.</p>
<p>“H-Hiya, Dean,” she said. And it was all she had to say to hear that her voice was all thick and watery.</p>
<p>He stood up, pacing out of the library.</p>
<p>“What’s up?” he asked. “Everything okay?</p>
<p>His imagination went wild, picturing her in a dungeon, huddled with her phone, a captive to some big, ugly, scaly monster with a taste for hot blonde cops—</p>
<p>“Turns out Jeremys? Yah—big ol’ dicks, just like the Dougs!” Donna barked, sniffling and breathing a bit loudly into the phone. </p>
<p>“Oh no,” Dean murmured, sliding his hip onto the war table, bowing his head. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“Oh, well, yah, <em>well. Pftt, y’know—”</em></p>
<p>“Donna, you’re doing that thing where you say stuff, but you’re not saying anything.”</p>
<p>Donna huffed, and he heard her blow her nose away from the phone before she shuffled in against the receiver and explained, “He broke up with me because he got another job. Went home. Is gonna fix things with his ex.”</p>
<p>“Are you fucking serious?” Dean asked, aghast, lifting his head, his eyes narrowed. </p>
<p>“Oh!” Donna hiccuped. “I’m <em>real </em>fudgin’ serious. I-I can’t believe this is happening to me <em>again</em>. How many times am I gonna have to go through this, huh?”</p>
<p>He could hear her tears through the phone, her voice simultaneously going thick and high at the same time.</p>
<p>“Donna…” he started, trying to sound comforting. Damn, he wished he was as good at this as Sam was.</p>
<p>“Why doesn’t nobody <em>want</em> me?” Donna sobbed. “I’m thirty-three, I’ve been divorced and dumped twice in the same two years! I know I-I said I wanted to be solo, I-I know I d-don’t need no man, but I’m only human! Who’s a girl gotta boink to find companionship and love, ya know?”</p>
<p>Dean didn’t say anything. He didn’t trust himself. He bowed his head again, watching his own fist between his legs, his fingers rubbing at his palm. He felt hot and sweaty, and he desperately wanted to tell her she’d already boinked someone who wanted her, but...it wasn’t the right time.</p>
<p>The words got caught in his throat and he felt nauseous, his stomach filled with rocks.</p>
<p>“This is so embarrassing,” Donna whispered, sniffling wetly. “There I was earlier this year tellin’ ya how I was done with relationships, and here I am now, crying over some idiot. <em>Again.</em>”</p>
<p>Fuck. Maybe he <em>should </em>tell her… “Donna—”</p>
<p>“Stuff this!” she said suddenly. “Y’know, with you it was real easy. Everything was really, really easy. No strings attached, just sex, just fun, <em>no</em> emotions—” </p>
<p>His heart sank and his mouth shut quickly, his teeth clicking.</p>
<p>“No drama, just fun! Maybe that should’ve been enough for me,” Donna went on, rambling through hitched sobs. “Oh, I’m a real class idiot, ain’t I? My family is never gonna let me live this one down. My poor ma is gonna lay an egg!”</p>
<p><em>Pull yourself together. This is not about you, Dean,</em> he said to himself, forcing himself to pull up his heavy head and force a smile onto his face, even though no one could see him. “Who cares what your family thinks, Donna. He was a shmuck—”</p>
<p>“I told ‘em I was gonna bring my new man over,” she groaned. “It’s my dad’s birthday in two days and the whole family is gonna be there, and <em>oh, </em>my sister is gonna be a real treat about this. She already loooves to joke about how I got a divorce because I ‘had a caboose like a moose’, and now, I’m sure she’ll find some kinda other horrible joke to make— ” </p>
<p>Desperate to make her feel better, to make this all better, Dean asked, “Did you tell them Jeremy’s name?”</p>
<p>“What? Well, no, I just said I was bringing a new manfriend. I-I wanted to surprise ‘em, sorta.”</p>
<p>Unsure why he hated himself enough to offer, Dean forced a chuckle and proposed, “Hey, take me, then. Is there gonna be food?”</p>
<p>Over the phone, there was a silence, then, “Oh ya. Lots.”</p>
<p>“I <em>love </em>free food,” Dean joked. “I hate planes though. So if we gotta fly, you’re gonna have to get me real drunk.”</p>
<p>He pressed his fingers into his eyes. This was going to be torture, pretending to be Donna’s boyfriend.</p>
<p>“Really?” Donna asked, her watery voice hopeful. “You’d do that for <em>me?”</em></p>
<p>“‘Course. What’re friends for?”</p>
<p>“You’d pretend to be my boyfriend, though?” she questioned, sounding skeptical. “I know that’s not your thing, I know you hate the idea of dating and ooey-gooey emotional stuff…”</p>
<p>Torture. It was going to be absolute torture.</p>
<p>“Naaah, it’s fine. I can deal with it,” he jested, his heart dropping into his stomach and making a nest in the jagged, cold rocks there. “We can convince ‘em. I’ll help keep your sister’s gross comments at bay, y’know? Do a little cuddling, some hand holding. I’ll even smooch ya like I mean it. Call you obnoxious names like ‘poo-bear’ and ‘sugar-plum’.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Dean. That… That would be <em>so </em>helpful. I’ll buy your ticket and as much booze as you need on the plane, I promise.” After a relieved little laugh, she paused. “Though hold on the nicknames, my sister still hasn’t forgotten one time where Doug 1.0 called me his ‘curly-sue’. She mocked me for ‘bout two years until I got so fed up I began straightening my hair every day.”</p>
<p>He remembered that. When he’d met her, she’d always had straight hair, blow-dried until not a kink was evident. She’d looked pretty then, of course, but her curls… He loved them.</p>
<p>“You tell me where to be and when, and I’ll cook up a passport.”</p>
<p>Donna laughed. “You don’t have one?”</p>
<p>“I do,” he admitted, chuckling. “But I’m on a no-fly list and I’m pretty sure the FBI are still lookin’ for me and Sam from a bunch of hunting related stuff, soooo…”</p>
<p>“Ooofta. That’s a bummer.”</p>
<p>“It certainly makes international flying real bitch.”</p>
<p>“I bet.” Then, with a sigh, she said quietly, “You’re a lifesaver, Dean. A real good friend fer doin’ this.”</p>
<p>His fist clenching in his lap, Dean gave a short nod. “Yeah, girl. Don’t mention it. I’ll see you soon. Text me details.”</p>
<p>This was going to feel bad. Really, really bad.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Smelly Markers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donna rocked on her feet, her bum hitting the smooth glass wall outside the airport washrooms. She smiled at a group of kids who stared at her, probably wondering why she was surrounded by enough suitcases for several people and holding a ziplock bag with a toothbrush and toothpaste.</p>
<p>Checking her watch, she noted that they were good for time, but she was itching for a coffee before heading out. If they left relatively soon, they might catch dessert after supper with her family. Leaning close to the single bathroom she was camped out front of, Donna knocked on the door and asked gently, “Dean? How ya fairin’?”</p>
<p>Coughing. </p>
<p>“Fine,” Dean said, but he sounded rough. </p>
<p>The plane had been...bumpy, for whatever reason. There had been turbulence for the entire hour and a half they’d been on the stinkin’ thing. It was so terrible that Dean hadn’t even wanted to drink. He hadn’t wanted to get drunk, or accept pills, or even speak. He just gripped her hand so tightly she was sure something was fractured. </p>
<p>Poor guy had made it as far as the baggage carousel before he ducked into the bathroom to be sick. Considering that she owed him big time for pretending to be her boyfriend, Donna didn’t mind getting their bags at all. Dean packed light anyway, his usual stuff rolled neatly into his duffel.</p>
<p>The door opened and Dean made a pinched face at her, looking considerably less green. “Hey.”</p>
<p>Donna held up the ziplock bag. “Hopeya don’t mind, but I fished this outta your bag. Want a Gravol?”</p>
<p>Looking grateful, Dean accepted his toiletries and smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, Don. But nah, I’m all puked out. It’s all good, just give me a minute.”</p>
<p>The door clicked closed again, and Donna heard the distinct noise of teeth being brushed furiously for a few minutes before Dean walked out of the bathroom, looking much better and smelling minty on top of his usual soft scent of leather and worn cologne.</p>
<p>Dean paused as he was leaning over, putting his toiletries back into his duffle that Donna had piled on top of her suitcases. He raised a brow at her. “Were you just <em>smelling </em>me? Am I pukey? Oh, shit. I’m still pukey, aren’t I? Gross. That’s so gr—”</p>
<p>Donna laughed, cutting him off, and smacking him on the shoulder. “You’re not pukey, Dean. I was just wonderin’ how you always manage to smell like the Impala, even when you’re not in her.”</p>
<p>“Way to make that sound way more sexual than it needed to be,” Dean said with a grin, swinging his bag over his shoulder and ducking down to pick up one of Donna’s suitcases—she was bringing a few back that’d belonged to her family members. “People walking by are gonna think that I have a really kinky girlfriend named after a car, and a friend with no decency in public—ow!”</p>
<p>Dean rubbed at his arm but smirked after Donna landed a good punch to his bicep.</p>
<p>“The only girlfriend you got is me,” Donna chuckled. “For the weekend, at least.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dean said strangely. “Just for a few days, then it’s over.”</p>
<p>Donna glanced at him, unsure what to make of his impassive face, but she attributed it to being nauseous still, and brushed it off. </p>
<p>“Anyhoo, thanks again for comin’ with me, Dean. This just...means a lot. I was dreadin’ having to face my family or, well, my sister and mom. They’d ask why I was comin’ alone, and then my sister woulda said something probably horrible…” She lowered her gaze to her suitcases as they maneuvered through the crowds in the airport, pretending to be preoccupied with not hitting anyone with her giant luggage. “Look, it’s just real swell of you. I’ll make sure ya get fed and that no one gives you a hard time. Ma is kind of a basketcase, she’s always worried about something. Frazzle-dazzled, y’know? But she means well, and my dad, well…” </p>
<p>Dean was looking at her already when she looked up, and his warm smile made her lips split into her own. “My dad,” she went on, “is the best. He’s just the best. You’re gonna love him.”</p>
<p>“Hope he likes me,” Dean said, watching the suitcases, too. He cleared his throat and added, “Just ‘cause I wouldn’t want to let you down and stuff. I wanna be believable.”</p>
<p>Dean had no idea how much her dad would like him. “Oh, you’ll be fine. You want a coffee?” she asked, gesturing at a java stand near the exit of the airport. “I gotta pick up the keys for my rental car, so why doncha grab us two cups and meet me out front?”</p>
<p>“Fuck, I’d love a coffee,” Dean admitted, looking longingly at the coffee stand. “After that plane ride, I’ve got nothing in my stomach anymore.”</p>
<p>Donna felt around in her pocket as they came to a stop in front of the coffee stand and rental booth. She located a crumpled wad of bills and pushed them into Dean’s hand. “There ya go,” she offered cheerfully. “Get yourself a bagel or something, too, there, Dean. It’s a forty-five minute drive from here to Hibbing. Give that coffee somethin’ to stick to, or you’ll be fertilizing the roadside lenten roses with your puke.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Forty minutes later, the car was packed and the coffee was warm in their hands, Dean was alarmed how cold it was in Minnesota, and they were halfway to Donna’s childhood home. The Kia Donna had gotten was pretty compact and it smelled like new car, so it certainly wasn’t the Impala, but it had a seat warmer so Dean’s cold ass was happy and fairly comfortable.</p>
<p>Finally feeling like his stomach was settled, Dean took a bite from the second half of his bagel and asked thickly, “So? Anything I need to know about the ol’ fam? Do <em>we—</em>as in Dean and Donna, the dating twosome—need a cover story?”</p>
<p>Donna reached forward to turn down Alanis Morrisette’s wailing and pouted her lips, drumming her finger on the steering wheel. “Well,” she sighed, her shoulders slumping, “my sister is nosy, and she’ll drill you. Don’t be surprised if she, um, is a bit <em>sharp</em>. Despite how she can be some times, she does love me, and so she’s never really liked my boyfriends.”</p>
<p>Feeling confused, Dean glanced out at the road in front of them, then back at Donna. “Uuuh, so why would you want to introduce one to your family? What’s the big deal?”</p>
<p>Donna looked a bit coy, her cheeks colouring at the tops. “Y’see, my dad isn’t doing well. He’s not sick or nothin’, but since his accident, my mom’s been stressed and that stresses him out. And...he worries about me,” she finally admitted, smiling over at Dean, though it was slow to meet her eyes. “My sister is doin’ great, and my nieces and nephews are doin’ awesome, but y’know, after the divorce I was a bit of a mess, and after my breakup—the one before the last,” Donna added bitterly, “he was all concerned. With me bein’ away, he worries that I’m lonely and stuff.”</p>
<p>Feelings curled into a ball in his throat, and while he tried to shove them down into his stomach, they came up in the form of; “Are you?” </p>
<p>Donna glanced at him, the lines around her mouth deepening.</p>
<p>“Lonely,” he clarified, a little pang in his stomach causing him to physical wince.</p>
<p>Donna was silent for a moment, then he saw her face curl into a grin and she reached over, clapping him on the thigh. “Not when I’m with you, now, am I, D?”</p>
<p>He knew she was joking, that she was trying to add cheer to the atmosphere, but his heart didn’t seem to know the difference, or at least, it pretended not to. It fluttered in his chest and his stupid brain jumped in, saying <em>I’m not lonely when I’m with you, either.</em></p>
<p><em>Idiot, </em>Dean added, right back at his brain. </p>
<p>“Anyhoo, he worries less if he knows there are good people around me who care,” she went on, tapping her fingers on the wheel. “He knows I got Jodes and the girls, but he knows I work a lot, too. It’s his birthday and I just want him to not worry...for once.”</p>
<p>How did she manage to smile and yet look so damn sad at the same time? Dean wanted to make it right. He knew it wasn’t his responsibility to help everyone, he <em>knew </em>that in his head, but he couldn’t fight the instinct. And he especially couldn’t fight it with her.</p>
<p>“Well,” Dean said cheerfully, “then we met at, uh, Staples. Buying...uh, staples. And boom, love ever since!”</p>
<p>Donna tossed her head back and broke into a fit of hearty chuckles, her cheeks tinted red, and this time not out of sadness or embarrassment. Dean found himself laughing too, immediately mirroring her joy.</p>
<p>“No, no. No story needed,” she giggled. “A...little fib is all. We were friends, we had a thing, and now we’re dating. Heck, you could’ve been taking care of pests at the precinct.”</p>
<p>“Solid story,” Dean concurred, raising his coffee and taking a loud sip. “Went in to kill some kissing bugs, came out with no bugs, but lots of kissing.”</p>
<p>The joke was dumb, but Donna laughed for a good two minutes, so it was totally worth it.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>They made it for dessert.</p>
<p>After unpacking their luggage and Donna’s many suitcases from the car, they trudged through the snow and up onto the porch, sniffling against the cold and blinking falling snow from their eyes. The door was locked, so while Donna rummaged in her pockets for the keys, Dean looked around fondly.</p>
<p>It was exactly the type of house Dean had thought it would be. Small, but cozy. It was an old house, judging from the outside, with pick up trucks in the driveway and all kinds of winter accessories hanging out on the snowy front yard. Ski-doos and multi-coloured sleds piled up haphazardly against the side of the worn, peeled siding. They’d had to maneuver strategically over the front porch, lifting suitcases over and around snow-covered gardening tools, a bunch of snowshoes, and adirondack chairs. </p>
<p>As Donna pulled open the screen door, Dean had smiled around at the goofy porch decorations. A lady-bug clock ticked beside the house number, above the chipped metal mailbox. The time was wrong but Dean thought it had character. He reached up to brush his gloved hand across one of the many windchimes that hung from the eavestrough.</p>
<p>“My ma collects those,” Donna had explained, driving her keys into the lock. “We used to get her a new one each birthday, so she’s got like fifty billion of ‘em. You should see the back patio! When it’s windy, you can hear tinklin’ from ‘em all the way from the basement.”</p>
<p>Dean smiled at the decoration as it chimed, the little metal hearts on the dangling bits looking rather charming. “Cute,” he said quietly to himself as Donna pushed open the door and shoved her keys into her jacket pocket.</p>
<p>“Heeeeeelloooooo?” Donna howled through the door as she proceeded to tug too much luggage through the front door.</p>
<p>Suddenly hit with a wall of nerves like they’d plowed into him via train, Dean found himself frozen to the spot for a moment, having to give himself a miniscule pep talk before he could follow her in. He was...about to pretend to be Donna’s boyfriend for three days. He’d have to do so in front of her entire family. </p>
<p>He wasn’t good at family stuff. Even at Jody’s place, he still felt a bit unsure of how to act. Family things with John had been zilch, and while Bobby tried to give them what normal childhood things he could, it was still one grouchy mechanic with two troubled boys eating Thanksgiving turkey from a can, surrounded by spellbooks and shotgun ammo. And he certainly hadn’t ever really gotten a chance to be taken to meet a girlfriend’s family. Sam had that experience, but Dean…</p>
<p>
  <em>Be brave. You’ve faced like four apocalypses. You can face Donna’s family.</em>
</p>
<p>But as soon as they both dragged their feet over the carpet inside to clean their boots, he was hit with a <em>woosh</em> of warmth and the smell of a home cooked meal. The nerves dissipated a bit. Catching a glance at himself in the front mirror above a small set of shelves stacked with boots, scarves, and mittens, Dean noticed his hair was speckled with snow and his nose and cheeks were red. </p>
<p>Attempting to fluff the snow out of his hair, Dean missed Donna’s mom hurrying into the cramped foyer. </p>
<p>“Donnie!” her mom said fondly, reaching out for her daughter. </p>
<p>Dean stood up straight like when his dad used to bark his name at him, and he stood out of the way, clutching at his duffle bag’s strap in a tight fist. </p>
<p>The woman was...well, obviously Donna’s mom. She was essentially Donna with big curly blonde hair and dimpled cheeks, but thin like a beanpole and she had blue eyes instead of brown. She was quaint-looking, wearing mom jeans and a big, cozy wool sweater that had a wolf on the front, as well as fluffy slippers on her feet shaped like cartoon moose.</p>
<p>Dean watched Donna hug her mom, a heart-string-plucking smile of joy spread across her face. </p>
<p>“Ma,” Donna said happily, sighing into her mom’s shoulder. “I missedja!”</p>
<p>Donna’s mom pulled back from the embrace and gasped, patting at Donna’s face. “Oooo, Donnie, look at you! Have ya lost weight? Y’sure look it from your cheeks, but can’t really tell under all that winter paddin’, ya know!”</p>
<p>Donna’s face felt a bit and she shrugged, tucking hair behind her ear. “Uh, maybe? Dunno, ma, haven’t been payin’ much attention to...to <em>that</em>. I-I mean I’ve been trying. Been layin’ off the sweets and stuff, but—”</p>
<p>Her mother hand-waved and said hushedly, “Well, doncha worry, you’ll get there, won’t ya? Just gotta lay off the tater-tot hot dishes, y’know, Donnie-Bon. It’s a meal meant for <em>sharin’</em>, ain’t it? Doncha worry now, though, your pop’s doctor here said he can’t be eatin’ no trans-fats, and your sister’s gluten intolerant now, so all the bread on the table is mighty healthy. Ya won’t gain a poun—”</p>
<p>“Ma!” Donna interrupted, clearly forcing a smile onto her flushed face. She turned to Dean and reached up to pat at his cheek. “This is my, um, my boyfriend. Dean. His name is Dean.”</p>
<p>It made Dean feel a bit better to notice that Donna was as nervous as he was, but he grinned, all teeth and charm, and waved a bit, letting go of his duffel. “Hi, Mrs.—oof!”</p>
<p>Donna’s mom pulled him into a hug and patted at the back of his head. “Ooh, hiya, there, Dean! We’ve been mighty excited to meet ya!” </p>
<p>Having to lean down to match her height, Dean chuckled and patted her on the back. She pulled away just enough to stare into his face, before she giggled and looked over at Donna. </p>
<p>“The boys are a heckin’ more handsome down in Sioux Falls! I see why you moved away now. Look at this one!” She reached up and pinched Dean’s cheek, her shoulders doing a quick, excited shrug. “A chin like George Clooney and freckles like an orgy of angels!”</p>
<p>Donna ducked her head and turned away to shrug off her thick winter coat, but Dean saw her shoulders shaking. “Yeah, ma,” Donna said, her tone wobbly with laughter, “I upgraded for sure!”</p>
<p>“And his name isn’t Doug!” her mom said, winking at Dean. With as smack on his chest, she said, “Speakin’ of names, mine is Bessie, but you can just call me ‘ma’, everyone else does! Even my darn husband!” She paused, mid-way through tugging at Dean’s sleeve and gesturing to the overworked coat rack that looked like it was one Canadian goose feather away from snapping into pieces. With a small whisper, she added, “Unless you call your own ma ‘ma’, in which case, Bessie will do just fine.”</p>
<p>“No, ma’am,” Dean replied with a chuckle, unzipping his coat and toeing off his boots. “Mom’s been dead for thirty-three years, I’m sure she won’t mind.”</p>
<p>When Bessie gasped a little and hid her mouth behind her hand, Dean cursed himself and his stupid dark humour. “Um,” he added, flashing her a grin, “it’s okay, um, Ma. I’m only kidding.”</p>
<p>“Your mother is alive?” Bessie asked, alarmed, her hand lowering from her mouth, though she cupped them at her chest.</p>
<p><em>Oh my God, Dean, shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut— “</em>Oh no, she’s very dead, but... Donna, save me.”</p>
<p>Donna stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Dean’s cheek, ruffling his hair as she turned to her mom. “Ma is fine, ma. Where’s dad? And Na—”</p>
<p>“MA! ARE THESE RICE CRACKERS Y’GOT HERE GLUTEN FREE?”</p>
<p>“Oh jee,” Bessie said, looking deflated and worried. “Are rice crackers gluten free?”</p>
<p>Donna, Dean noticed, looked a bit peeved as she glanced in the direction of the voice. Dean tried to follow it too, but didn’t see much past the glow of the kitchen down the hall, the staircase where a small fluffy beige dog slept, and the living room where he spotted a few squishy brown corduroy couches covered in patterned quilts and a basket of knitting yarn. He was unsure where the voice came from until a tall woman with long straight blonde hair came waltzing into the room waggling a box of yellow crackers.</p>
<p>"Ma, where did you buy these, are they—" </p>
<p>The woman—who Dean could only assume was Donna's sister considering they had the exact same face and big brown eyes, albeit a bit cooler and unfriendly—narrowed her gaze when she spotted Dean. </p>
<p>She turned to her mother and asked, "Who is this guy…? Donna! Is that you back there?"</p>
<p>It was then Dean realised Donna was crouched down behind her mom, fiddling with the laces of her boots. She snuck in one exaggerated wince at Dean while she was still hidden, but her face changed into a tight smile as she appeared again at his side.</p>
<p>"There ya are, Nae-nae," Donna said, wrinkling her nose in a playful manner though Dean knew her well enough to know she looked partially pained. "Goodta see ya. Um, ma didn't tell ya I was bringing my new b—"</p>
<p>"<em>That,</em>" her sister said in surprise, her brows shooting up as she pointed a long painted red fingernail at Dean, "is your boyfriend? How much did you pay for him?"</p>
<p>Dean made a choking noise, and Donna just sighed, "Okie dokes", while her mother waved her hand at her twig of a daughter. Donna was right: her mom was easily frazzle-dazzled. The woman's face turned a hot red and her head shook from side-to-side like she was one of those bobble heads on a dashboard. </p>
<p>"Nadeen, where are your <em>manners! </em>Oh, none of this, girls! Not on yer father's birthday. Oh!" In a huff, Bessie tottled down the hall past her daughter and waved absently for Dean and Donna to follow. “Alrightie, Nadeen, you come with me, and bring your rice crackers. I don’t think they got no gluten in them, but we can check. And Donna bring your man with you! There’s dessert on the table! ‘Nuff for everyone!”</p>
<p>Nadeen gave Dean a sweeping look of distrust, but followed her mother, her silky dress flowing out behind her. </p>
<p>“When do we tell her rice has no gluten in it?” Dean muttered to Donna out of the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>Donna just kept smiling down the hall and sighed, “Never.”</p>
<p>When Dean chuckled, he was gifted with a glimmer in her eye and a brilliant grin that reminded him that he was a dumbass love-sick fool and this whole weekend was going to hurt.</p>
<p>Donna slid her fingers between his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. <em>Ow.</em> Ow, ow, <em>ow</em>, the weekend was going to hurt so badly.</p>
<p>“Lead the way, love of my life, light of my heart,” Dean mocked lightly, waggling his brows and wanting to puke.</p>
<p>Donna snorted and tugged him into the house, leading him closer to the scent of freshly baked dessert and leftovers of what smelled like roast beef. “Okie dokes, Dean,” she said. “Welcome to the thunder dome.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Donna had been as right about her dad as she’d been about her mom.</p>
<p>Yes, her mom was frazzled. And absolutely yes, her dad was the best, and <em>yes</em>, Dean loved him.</p>
<p>The man was the cheeriest person Dean had ever met in his life. He had been so thrilled to meet Dean that he insisted Donna’s sister ‘shoved a bum’ to make room for him, insisting that Dean regale him with stories about their boring as hell flight. He also had decided, after mishearing Donna during their introduction, that Dean’s name was actually ‘Bean’ and hadn’t let anyone correct him.</p>
<p>“What kinda name is Bean?” he’d laughed heartily, wheezing and wiping tears from his eyes. </p>
<p>Dean couldn’t help but grin at the man, who had Donna’s glowing red cheeks and her nose, and the same laugh. He was a chubby man with short fingers and a white beard. It was hard to be annoyed with Santa when he looked so damn tickled.</p>
<p>“Dunno,” Dean joked back, scooching his chair in closer to the table and grinning. “<em>Bean</em> wondering that myself for years.”</p>
<p>Donna’s dad leaned back in his chair and pressed his hands to his wobbling round belly and threw his head back to cackle, while Donna’s sister rolled her eyes and groaned, “Oh, fer fuck’s sa—”</p>
<p>“MOMMY SAID A BAD WORD!” Nadeen’s twins shrieked, their teeth bared, even the two that were missing in the front of their grins.</p>
<p>Nadeen curled in towards her children, hissing a scolding at them, while Bessie went red in the face, whispering, “His name is <em>Dean, </em>Roger! Don’t be so <em>rude!”</em></p>
<p>Beside him, Donna was laughing too, her eyes twinkling at her amused father, her shoulders shaking as his laughter continued to fill the room. “Don’t worry, ma,” Donna said, her voice wobble with glee. “Dean’s not puttin’ too much stalk in—hah hah haaaah—”</p>
<p>“MOM!” Nadeen barked, causing her quiet suit-wearing, silent husband to jump a foot in the air. He adjusted his glasses and continued to be a boring human as he cut into his cheesecake like it required a mathematical equation. Donna’s sister waggled her knife in their direction and whined, “Are ya really gonna let them pun their way through our otherwise nice supper!? I won’t have it! I’ll go eat in the snow.”</p>
<p>“Icy how it is,” Donna whimpered, hiccuping into her hand as her dad roared with laughter. </p>
<p>Dean looked around at the mixture of annoyed and gleeful faces, beginning to understand he’d walked into a house full of crazy people, and he kind of loved it.</p>
<p>Donna's mom made him a plate of leftovers, and pushed every bit of food she could at them, not wanting them to be hungry. Donna's dad joined in, even though he'd just finished, blaming Bessie for making dinner so nice he wanted it twice. </p>
<p>Of course, since they'd made it in time for dessert, they had some of that too. Cheesecake with strawberry jam and a crumbly bottom—Nadeen whined that it wasn't gluten free, but Dean was in such a food coma by the end of their meal that he hardly heard her. </p>
<p>Donna had been right about her sister, too. Nadeen was certainly...sharp.</p>
<p>In the middle of Dean’s reply (and partial lie) to Donna’s father when the man had asked if Dean had any siblings, Nadeen interrupted him mid-bullshit story.</p>
<p>“Let me get this straight. Your brother went to law school at <em>Stanford </em>and then...dropped out  to...become a <em>researcher </em>in <em>Sioux Falls</em>?” Nadeen asked skeptically, her brow raised, pausing while she sliced cheesecake into tiny bits for her young children who looked small, sure, but big enough to use a fuckin’ butter knife. </p>
<p>Dean cleared his throat, and began to answer, “Well, he—”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t he need to actually <em>complete</em> a university education to become a researcher?” Nadeen pressed on, her eyes narrowing. She turned to her husband, waving vaguely with her cheesy knife. “Darlin’, isn’t that right? You can’t just be a researcher for a university when you’ve barely got an education?”</p>
<p>If anyone else accused Sam of <em>barely </em>having an education, Dean would’ve decked ‘em, but instead he just glanced awkwardly around the table and tried to answer, only to be cut off by her husband, David, who was as pompous and douchey as he looked.</p>
<p>“Oh yes,” he confirmed, shaking his long sandy fringe from his eyes and tucking his glasses up his nose with his knuckle. “They don’t allow any riff-raff to become full-time at institutions of higher education.”</p>
<p>“Sam is <em>not </em>riff-raff,” Donna said firmly. “Nadeen, just shut yer gluten-free pie hole!”</p>
<p>Dean felt himself grow a bit hot, conflicted with emotions. He was pissed at Nadeen, and embarrassed to be put on the spot. He wanted to defend himself and Sam, but he, for once, opted to be calm, not wanting to humiliate Donna.</p>
<p>“He’s researching pagan lore at a community college nearby us,” Dean lied (kinda—Sam did love a good local college pagan lore run), smiling tightly at Nadeen, whose mouth went as thin as her narrowed eyes.</p>
<p>“Charmin’,” she muttered, then spoke up, asking coolly, “And what do <em>you </em>do for a living, Dean? Can’t imagine it lives up to pagan lore, but I’m sure it’ll be just as riveting.”</p>
<p>Donna’s mom fumbled a plate into the soapy water in the kitchen, getting herself in the face with the splashes, and hissing, “Nadeen! Manners!”</p>
<p>Dean felt a warm hand on either of his arms and he looked from side-to-side, feeling Donna’s giving him a squeeze, and watching her dad give him a pat, their matching pair of eyes encouraging him to go on. </p>
<p>“I’m…” Dean shook his head. “Um…” </p>
<p>For some reason, he’d let Nadeen get under his skin. He’d faced monsters and ghosts and demons that had tried to kill him at several points in his life, but something about another human just good ol’ fashion belittling him made Dean feel…</p>
<p>“He’s pest control,” Donna piped up, and if her tone of pride didn’t return his confidence, the way she’d slid her other hand around his bicep and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek sure fuckin’ did.</p>
<p>Inspired suddenly, Dean flashed Nadeen a grin and a wink. “Pest control. And I’m pretty damn good at it, if I may say so myself.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you are. Takes a lot of skill to squash a few bugs,” Nadeen said idly, handing the butterknife to her young daughter, who was practically vibrating with excitement, her tiny blue eyes wide like saucers with the cheesecake reflected in them. Dean had a feeling this was the most sugar those poor kids were allowed to have for the year.</p>
<p>“Pest Control doesn’t make very much <em>money, </em>do they?” Nadeen asked, tilting her head and sitting back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest.</p>
<p>“Now, Nae-nae,” Donna’s dad piped up, eyeing her over the top of his glasses, his warm smile drooping for a moment. “Can’t be just gettin’ into people’s financials whenever ya feel like it!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Naddeen said, sounding like she was the farthest from sorry she’s ever been. “I just know alotta men who pray on strong, financially stable career women like Donnie and—”</p>
<p>“I don’t love Donna because of her <em>money</em>,” Dean started, and felt a sharp pain in his jaw when he clicked his teeth together abruptly, realising what <em>he’d just said</em>. Staring down at his plate, he fumbled. “I...I mean…”</p>
<p>
  <em>You’re just playing your role. She just thinks you’re playing your role. Oh, God, please just think I’m playing my role...</em>
</p>
<p>“Oh, Nadeen!” Donna’s mother sighed, sounding stressed as she shuffled into the dining room from the kitchen, her fists on her hips and a disapproving, disappointed look on her face that knitted her brows together. “The poor boy’s been here for two fudgin’ minutes and you’re scarin’ him off! Ya want your sister to be alone forever?!”</p>
<p>Donna buried her face in her hands and groaned, “<em>Maaa</em>.”</p>
<p>Thankfully, Roger saved them all, clearing his throat and asking, “So, Nae-Nae, how’s Wendy doin’ in high school?”</p>
<p>“She’s graduated, dad,” Nadeen said with a roll of her eyes. “Off to college in the fall. Thinks she’s a whole adult now that she’s eighteen.” Her mouth with twisted in a purse and she added, “Isn’t here t’day because she thinks goin’ to Miami with her friends was more important than seein’ her pop-pop on his birthday.”</p>
<p>But Roger waved her off. “Oh, no fussin’, Nae-Nae. Wendy told me ‘bout those plans months ago. Sent me a real nice card on email. Can’t read the whole thing o’course, not sure how to scroll all the way to the bottom, but the top half was real nice!”</p>
<p>“Who’s Wendy?” Dean asked Donna, leaning in close to her ear, taking a moment to enjoy the fresh scent of her body spray.</p>
<p>Donna leaned in close, too, their cheeks brushing. “My niece. Nae-Nae’s oldest. Had her when she was real young. She’s goin’ off to college in California. Coolest kid in the family, f’I’m bein’ honest. You’d like her.”</p>
<p>When they pulled apart, Nadeen and Roger were still going on about Wendy. Roger looked tickled and amused while Nadeen looked peeved about her daughter’s new-found rebellion. Or as the rest of the world called it; fun. </p>
<p>“Ma,” Donna said, pushing her plate away, “Dean and me are gonna head upstairs—”</p>
<p>“You mean ‘Dean and I’?” Nadeen interrupted, her teeth clacking around the tiniest forkful of cheesecake. Dean restrained himself from letting her know that probably had gluten in it.</p>
<p>“No,” Donna said sweetly, getting to her feet. “You’re not invited.”</p>
<p>Roger chuckled into a mug of coffee Ma shoved kindly into his hands. Nadeen rolled her eyes and Dean grinned. </p>
<p>“We unpacking?” he asked.</p>
<p>“You betcha,” Donna nodded. “Let’s get settled.”</p>
<p>They excused themselves, Bessie—Ma—giving him a little squeeze on the arm as he passed her. </p>
<p>Shuffling behind Donna with her now single suitcase and his duffle, Dean felt a pang of...something in his chest as he peered around the hallway upstairs. On the walls were a near-obscene amount of pictures in mismatched frames. Two blonde little girls grinned at him from a few of them, their big fluffy 80’s hair taller than Sam and tied up in loud scrunchies that matched their tiny track suits. Donna’s high school graduating pictures were there, with her big round cheeks and happy grin that sparkled silver from braces. Roger, not yet in a wheelchair, and Bessie, young and looking the most like Donna than he’d ever seen, beamed at him from their wedding pictures. A teenager with braces grinned at him from a graduation picture—Wendy, no doubt.</p>
<p>His house in Lawrence used to look like this, he recalled, though the images were blurry. He’d been too small to see up that high at the neat picture frames his mom had hung around their home. But he remembered the <em>feeling </em>of it and it was very, very much like this. Dean stopped behind Donna as she dropped her bag and reached out to open a door. He scrunched his socked toes into the pale rosy carpet.</p>
<p>“Don’t laugh,” Donna said, glancing over her shoulder, her smile big but her cheeks a bit red. “My ma hasn’t changed a thing since I left for college. It’s a bit…”</p>
<p>Purple. Everything was purple. </p>
<p>The walls, the carpet, the bedsheets. The forty mix-matched pillows piled on her bed were all shapes and textures—fuzzy and silky and boring ol’ cotton—but all were some kind of lavender or magenta or plum. The lamp shades on the bedside tables were a pale lavender, the beads hanging off their edges a hot fuschia. </p>
<p>“Wow,” Dean choked out, following Donna in as she threw her luggage on the bed with a grunt. “It’s…”</p>
<p>Donna chuckled, shrugging as she unzipped her bag. “I was a bit obsessed.”</p>
<p>Walking around the room, admiring everything that had been Donna when she’d lived there, he pointed at the shrine to<em> New Kids on the Block </em>atop her dresser and the large, worn posters of Marky Mark on either side of her bed. “Obsessed with purple? Or with,” Dean held a fake microphone to his mouth and sang poorly, “<em>Step-by-steeeep! Oooo, beh-beeeh! Gonna get to you guuuu-uur-urrr-urrrl—”</em></p>
<p>With a huge grin split across her face, Donna whipped a big fuzzy purple pillow at him. “Cut it out!”</p>
<p>Still humming, Dean threw his bag beside hers on the bed, but turned back around, pacing the room with his hands in his pockets. “It’s like a teen girl’s wet dream in here. Ooo, look!” </p>
<p>“What?” Donna laughed.</p>
<p>Dean poked around in a small tin that said <em>Altoids </em>on the side, and turned back around, clipping tiny pink and purple butterfly clips into his hair. “Do I look pretty or what?”</p>
<p>“DEAN!”</p>
<p>“No <em>way</em>,” Dean gasped, practically swooping across the room like a dementor wearing pink hair clips. He stopped in front of what must’ve been an old computer desk, and held up a wire mesh cup containing a multitude of coloured markers. He turned on his heel and wiggled the cup at her, his eyes wide. “Do you <em>remember </em>these?”</p>
<p>“Smelly markers?” Donna asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she walked around the bed and joined him in front of the desk. “‘Course I do.”</p>
<p>Dean pulled the red one out of the cup and tugged the top off with his teeth, splitting it into his hand, before he raised the dried out tip to his nose and released a bark of thrilled laughter. “Wow, it still smells like cherry. Dude, I’m taken back. The red was always my favourite.”</p>
<p>Donna tugged out the grape one and blushed sheepishly as she sniffed it. “Obviously purple was my favourite. Mmmm. Smell.”</p>
<p>Dean leaned forward to inhale the marker she offered to him. “Mmm. Yeah, that’s good stuff.” </p>
<p>Standing straight and putting the red one back into the cup, he set it aside and said fondly, “Sam bought me a set for Christmas when I was like...ten? Or, y’know, my dad bought ‘em and gave ‘em to him to give to me. One of the only Christmases we all had together. I fuckin’ loved ‘em, though I wouldn’t tell anyone. I was so bummed when I left them behind at a motel in Wisconsin.”</p>
<p>Donna was smiling at him, rocking on her heels, looking real soft in the eyes. Fuck, she was pretty.</p>
<p>“Here,” she said, reaching across him and plucking the red one from the cup, holding it out to him. “Take it. It’s all yours, D. A thanks for comin’ with me and doin’ me a huge favour.”</p>
<p>She paused, and Dean’s heart swelled as he took the marker from her.</p>
<p>“What was yer room like?” Donna asked, gesturing around. “Make me feel better about bein’ a big loser.”</p>
<p>Dean scratched at his cheek and smiled at her, slipping the red marker into his pocket and curling his fingers around it, not letting go. He rolled it in his hand, warm and sweaty, dreading the day she’d be done giving him gifts that meant so much. </p>
<p>“I only had my own room until I was four,” he murmured. “After the house fire and my mom died, we were on the road pretty much forever.”</p>
<p>Stepping away, her smile dropping from her lips. Donna blinked and said, “Oofda.” She raised her hand to her forehead and winced. “Oh, I’m sorry. I knew that your mom...um, but…I didn’t know you were so little. I... Ack, Dean, I feel like a real doofus.”</p>
<p>Her hand was on his arm, her palm warm through his shirt, and her face was pinched in a half-wince, though he could hardly blame her for what she’d asked. No one really asked him about the normal parts of his life like his childhood bedroom. Hell, even Sam probably had no idea what it looked like. Well, not outside that millisecond of time when they’d gone to his Heaven many years ago, but…</p>
<p>“My walls were blue,” Dean recalled, a flicker of warmth travelling from Donna’s gentle hand and coalescing in his chest, curling up like a fox around his heart. He looked around her room, taking in her bed, and her desk, and the floor. “I...had this old brown bed cover. It was kinda scratchy—I think it was a hand-me-down, or like, from a thrift store or something. But my mom used to slide this, like, really soft blanket under ‘cause my room was always drafty.”</p>
<p>The tight look around Donna’s eyes softened and she reached up, tucking a curl behind her ear. “That’s real nice, Dean.”</p>
<p>Smiling at her side-long, he turned his gaze back out at her room, and noticed pictures of her from high school, all young and a bit chubbier, but grinning big. In one picture, she was sitting in the on high school bleachers, obviously at a football game with her arms around a skinny goth girl who looked like she was trying not to smile, but failing. They both had black grease paint smeared under their eyes atop their cheeks.</p>
<p>“I had a shelf beside the door made of wood and...and my mom, she...” Dean went on quietly, his chest heavy with grief, but simultaneously light with nostalgia. “She put my football helmet on it. God, it must’ve been so small, thinking back on it, but it always looked so big to me. I only remember wearing it once... And I remember I had this firefighter hat I used to wear everywhere. Under it—” He gestured to a row of hooks by her dresser. “—all my jackets were there. I had this yellow rain jacket that I didn’t take off for like four months straight. I was obsessed with it...”</p>
<p>Donna followed his gaze, looking around her room. “Any posters?”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Dean chuckled, stepping away, unhappy to feel her hand slide off his arm. As he walked over to the bed, the floorboards creaked dully under the plush old carpet—he noticed some nail polish dried into it and grinned, imagining Bessie scolding her daughter for making a mess. “All I remember is one ugly drawing I’d made for my mom and dad in school. I don't got many memories from being a kid, but I still remember smearing my hands all in the yellow paint and my dad getting pissed because it stained my skin real bad. My fingers looked jaundiced for who knows how long.”</p>
<p>Unzipping his bag, he began pulling out his phone charger and a bag of toiletries. Donna began to do the same, gesturing to the side of the bed he stood on. </p>
<p>“You can have that side. The plug for your charger is just behind the table there,” she murmured, disappearing under the edge of the bed, only the top of her curls showing as she got on her hands and knees and began tugging at the bedside table to pull it from the wall. “Gotta...finagle the table…but…”</p>
<p>So his suspicions were confirmed; they’d be sleeping in the same bed. </p>
<p>“I could sleep on the floor,” Dean offered, feeling all kinds of weird emotions in his chest at the suggestion. He wanted to sleep beside her because...they’d never slept in the same bed before, not outside of lazy naps during his birthday weekend, but <em>that </em>had fueled the trajectory of his transition between crush to full-on love, so this was bad news. On the flip side, he didn’t want to sleep beside her because it was so wrong; she wasn’t into him that way, she probably was extremely uncomfortable with having to—</p>
<p>“Oh, no!” Donna said cheerily, sitting on her heels, her smiling face poking up over the edge of the mattress. “You big doof! Why wouldja sleep on the floor? There’s a big ol’ bed here. Enough room for us both. <em>Sleep on the floor</em>. Pfft.” Using the side of the bed as leverage, she got to her feet, flicking hair from her face and tugging her jeans up her hips with a wiggle. “I don’t got cooties, y’know!”</p>
<p>Dean dug around for his pyjamas in the bag, determined not to look up at her as he flushed in embarrassment. “Well, yeah, sure, yeah. I know. I just know you had a <em>thing </em>about us not sleeping in the same bed when...y’know…”</p>
<p>Picking up her sleeping clothes and tucking her clear bag of toiletries under her arm, Donna headed towards the door, shaking her head. “Don’t be silly, D! That was when we were, y’know—” she paused before opening the door to thrust her hips. “—doin’ the nasty. But we’re not doin’ that no more, so…”</p>
<p>They shared a look and Dean immediately shrugged. “Oh, yeah. No, I know. I know we’re not gonna have sex.”</p>
<p>“No sex,” Donna said, but she grinned. “We’re just friends now. This is a fake-dating <em>friends</em> sleepover.”</p>
<p>“Pfft, yeah, dude. I know,” Dean laughed, feeling his stomach squeeze like he’d drank an entire of old Men of Letters whiskey and wasn’t holding it well. “Go do your <em>thang</em> so I can do mine and we can hit the hay. I’m pooped after puking my brains out in the airport and then getting the shit kicked outta me by your sister.”</p>
<p>With a groan and a sympathetic wince, Donna opened the door and nodded. “Ya poor thing. Alright. I’ll be quick like lightenin’.”</p>
<p>She disappeared into the hallway and Dean heard her creak her way down to the bathroom, seeing the light click on, and then disappear as she shut the door. As soon as he heard it, Dean plunked his bag down onto the floor and crawled onto the bed, flopping down onto the pillows with a groan.</p>
<p>He’d be sleeping with Donna, but not <em>with </em>her. He’d finally be able to wake up next to her, but not <em>wake up next to her. </em>Not in <em>that</em> way. Not like he desperately wanted to.</p>
<p>Ugh, he was being such a love-sick loser. Dean rolled onto his back, staring at the popcorn ceiling and hating himself for the walking contradiction he’d become. If Dean from a year or two ago—the one who’d felt so heartbroken by Cas, who swore up and down that these kinda feelings had no place in his life—could see him know, he’d knock him on his ass for making the same mistake again.</p>
<p>That was torture. </p>
<p>Absolute torture.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Skating Around the Truth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean didn’t have to worry about waking up next to Donna. </p>
<p>He’d worked himself into a tizzy about it all night, unable to fall asleep because Donna was right there, not a foot away from him, lying on her side facing him, her soft sleeping breaths fluttering a curl in front of her face. Up. Down. Up. Down.</p>
<p>At some point, Dean had stopped watching her sleeping and thinking disgustingly sappy shit like;</p>
<p>
  <em>Her hair looks like a halo around her like that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>In the moonlight her skin looks so pretty, all smooth.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hey, she doesn’t snore at all. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>God, she smells really nice, even from a whole pillow over. Is she using a new toothpaste? It’s all spearmint-y. I love spearmint.</em>
</p>
<p>Is this why Cas used to watch him sleep all the time? ‘Cause now he got it. He got the appeal. It was still creepy as shit, but he kinda got it.</p>
<p>He’d resigned himself to turning away from her, hoping that he’d wake up turned away and not curled around her like in the movies when two friends fell asleep in the same bed and ended up waking up at the same time, snuggled and looking more comfortable than they ever had. If he woke up turned away, he could at least lay there until she woke up and left, and it would be like no one was sleeping with him at all. </p>
<p>Again, he didn’t have to worry about that because when Dean opened his eyes—momentarily confused about why he was waking up in a very purple unfamiliar place with a fuzzy pillow under his head and a picture of Marky Mark grinning at him—he was alone. </p>
<p>Dean turned over and felt around the other side of the bed, his raspy croak of<em> ‘Donna?’</em> completely unanswered.</p>
<p>Her bag was open on the desk against the wall and her pyjamas were folded neatly on her nightstand. She’d left him to wake up alone. It was a small mercy, he decided, though his heart kind of ached and he caught himself staring up at the ceiling and listening to the sound of his throat clicking thickly.</p>
<p>Eventually, he left the warm bed. He brought his things and a fresh pair of clothes to the bathroom Donna had shown him last night. He showered, noting that the floor was still wet and the humid air smelled like Donna’s shampoo and her body spray. She’d been in there recently, which meant he had only missed her by a little bit.</p>
<p>Quickly, Dean showered and changed. Back in the bedroom, he futzed around for a bit, putting away his things and even making the bed neatly. It was when he started trying to turn the wonky blinds on the windows the correct direction that he realised he was stalling, hoping Donna would come back up. In all honesty, he was nervous to walk around the house without her. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he was mainly anxious about running into her sister.</p>
<p>But eventually, he made his way downstairs and entered the kitchen, which was a fuckin’ disaster. Donna’s mom was scrambling around the stove, stirring and flipping and frying all kinds of delicious-somethings. Donna’s dad was at the dinner table, sitting patiently as two of his grandchildren put stickers on his face and in his beard. Donna sat beside her dad, grinning at him and talking with her hands through some story or another. 

Nadeen swept in past Dean without a word to him, waving two sets of small winter boots, and yelling to everyone and no one, “DAVID! David?! Oh, where is <em>David!? </em>Jac and Kimmie’s snow suits are missin’ <em>again</em>! They’re lime green and orange, fer Pete’s sake, how fudgin’ hard it is to keep ‘em straight? I gave birth to the kids and all he has to do is <em>keep track of their snowsuits</em>! DAVID!”</p>
<p>“Didja look <em>outside</em>? Those tykes are always rippin’ off their snow clothes and throwin’ em in the snow like they don’t need ‘em,” Donna pointed out, raising her eyebrows, and Dean saw as she turned her head to look over into the kitchen, that she was wearing dangly snowman earrings.</p>
<p>“They get warm easily, Donna!” Nadeen said sharply, glaring. “Don’t make me bring up in front of yer new boyfriend how you used to go just lay in the snow like a polar bear with shoes on, nibblin’ on icicles from the wire fencing! It freaked all the neighbours out, ya know! It was real weird!”</p>
<p>Donna met eyes with Dean and they grinned at each other. She waved him over. “Morning, D!”</p>
<p>Dean waved a bit as everyone greeted him as well.</p>
<p>“Mornin’, Dean!”</p>
<p>“HI, MISTER!”</p>
<p>“Oh, ya look rested, Dean!”</p>
<p>Donna’s mom rubbed his back in a motherly fashion as he shimmied through the busy kitchen with a shyness he hadn’t felt since he was twelve and awkwardly pimply. The touch was incredibly sweet and so he returned the smile she gave him, though hers was encouraging and his was probably awkward. He didn’t know what to do with motherly gestures. He could deal with rough and gruff father figures, but he seldom had few motherly figures. </p>
<p>“Morning,” he greeted to both Roger and Donna, taking a seat beside her. “How’d everyone sleep?”</p>
<p>Donna rested her chin on her propped up fist and beamed at him as she shrugged, snowman earrings wobbling against her neck. One was looped up in a curl and Dean reached out to fix it, but aborted his movement halfway as Donna watched his fingers, a curious flicker of something in her eye.</p>
<p>Dean’s hand dropped into his lap and he shifted his gaze to Roger as he grinned big, and the rainbow stickers on his cheeks fell as his dimples creased, though tiny fingers rushed to reattach them. “Oh, dandy, Dean,” Roger replied. “How ‘bout you, son?”</p>
<p>Bessie bustled up behind Dean and scraped scrambled eggs onto an available plate in front of him with a wooden spoon. “There ya go, Dean. You hungry? Do ya like eggs? Y’know, if you don’t, I can whip you up somethin’ else, you just say the word! You should eat ‘cause we got a long day outside today, and ya need somethin’ in your belly. Lunch isn’t ‘til one o’clock!” She gestured to the mug in front of him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You want a coffee? Tea? Got all kinds.”</p>
<p>Dean, again, felt strangely shy as she stared at him kindly. “Um, coffee’d be good, yeah. Thank you. A-And eggs are good, I—”</p>
<p>“Ma,” Nadeen said, sweeping back into the room with two small, snow-covered snow suits in her arms. “Stop trying to feed everyone, we can feed ourselves. Do you know where David is? I can’t find my sunglasses.”</p>
<p>“Well, stop losin’ em and you’d know where they were!” Roger laughed, his belly bouncing and winking at Donna, who released a bark of amusement but covered her mouth like she hadn’t meant to.</p>
<p>“Ya, mama, stop losing ‘em!” Jac, one of Nadeen’s twins, parrotted, grinning at his mom with his toothless smile. </p>
<p>Kimmie, his sister, jumped off her stool and began bouncing around the table, waving her sticker-covered hands, chanting, “Loser mommy, loser mommy, loser mommy!”</p>
<p>“You two stop doing that, and into the front hall,” Nadeen ordered, pointing out towards the foyer. “Get yer boots on and stop wasting those stickers. Those are for yer workbooks, aren’t they? Not Grandpa’s face!”</p>
<p>Dean watched Jac hop off his stool and the twins ran into the hall, zooming past their mother, who chased them with a look of intense frustration etched into her features. </p>
<p>“Wow,” Dean laughed weakly, turning back to Donna and her father, who both watched him with a warm smile on their faces. He blinked, “What?”</p>
<p>Roger leaned in and glanced up at his wife, who’d shuffled back into the kitchen, and was pouring fresh slow-cooked hot cocoa into a few thermos’. “Donna told ‘er about how yer ma died when you were small, so she’s been worrying about you all morning.”</p>
<p>Donna buried her face in her hands. “It slipped out.”</p>
<p>Dean grinned and leaned across her, whispering to Roger, “My mom died thirty-three years ago, sir. Do I tell her I’ve gotten over it? I’ve had a minute to process it.”</p>
<p>“Naaaah,” Roger chuckled. “Milk it. She’s makin’ cookies and I think it’s all your fault. Maple fudge and pecans, son.”</p>
<p>Tucking into his breakfast, Dean couldn’t help but smile at Roger’s look of pure glee. It left his heart feeling strangely fuzzy, but he berated himself for it because this was all fake. He wasn’t Donna’s boyfriend, she didn’t even <em>like him that way</em>, and it felt wrong to be lying to these people, especially Roger who was so kind to him, and Bessie, who was being so caring.</p>
<p>But he was jarred from his guilt as Donna’s fingers scrubbed through his hair, and he raised his eyes, his chewing around warm cheesy eggs slowing. Where she scratched at his scalp gently, his skin tingled and vibrated, and as she stared into his face, his cheeks grew warm.</p>
<p>“Ready for the great outdoors today?” Donna asked, raising her brows and smiling. “It’ll be chilly!”</p>
<p>Swallowing, Dean couldn’t imagine feeling cold in her presence. He took in her cheerful face; the rosy cheeks, her big brown eyes, the ever-present smile that managed to make him feel like he’d put it there, and the dirty-blonde ringlets framing her face. She looked beautiful.</p>
<p>If she was around, he’d be warm. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Dean was fucking freezing.</p>
<p>Minnesota was cold as balls. </p>
<p>Though, speaking of balls, his were somewhere north of where they usually hung, nestled somewhere around his belly button, shaking in their metaphorical boots behind his large intestines. </p>
<p>Sure, his right hand was intensely warm as Donna’s fingers curled around his, occasionally cupping them near her face and blowing into them as she teased him for the millionth time for being too cool for mittens.</p>
<p>“Doin’ okay, Mr. Cool Bean?” Roger asked, his hearty laugh puffing out condensation into big mushroom clouds in front of his face. His motorized wheelchair showered snow behind them with its nearly comically large wheels, leaving a track behind him as they did laps around the outside of the ice rink in the park. Dean had a feeling Roger had upgraded those wheels  himself—those, along with Minnesota Wild flags flapping in the wind from the back of the chair.</p>
<p>“I may regret not wearing mittens,” Dean admitted, rubbing his fingers against his palm in his jacket pocket. “Or a scarf. Or decent boots. I, uh, guess I kinda came unprepared. Didn’t expect it to be so damn cold, though. It’s <em>March.</em>”</p>
<p>“Something tells me you’re not in Kansas anymore,” Donna said, and Dean rolled his eyes when she high-fived her dad, the two of them sharing a twin chuckle.</p>
<p>“My girl is too funny,” Roger exclaimed with a grin. </p>
<p>“Yeah, she’s a comedian,” Dean muttered, but the absolute look of pride Donna flashed him had him joining in on the merriment.</p>
<p>They trudged through the snow, keeping an eye out for Nadeen, her children, her husband, and Bessie. They’d gone ahead as Donna, Dean, and Roger looked for a decent parking spot. David, as prissy as he seemed, had been nice enough to invite Dean to go ahead with them, as he was hoping they could set up a hockey game with the kids. And while Dean was good with most physical activity, the idea of testing gravity by balancing on two blades over ice and eating shit in front of Donna’s family was less than enticing.</p>
<p>As they reached the rink, Nadeen waved them over, her face already pinched with annoyance before they even completely reached her.</p>
<p>“Hurry up, now!” she yelled, her breath coming out like smoke from a dragon. “You three are holdin’ up the game! We need one more player. Dean, getcher skates on!”</p>
<p>That was absolutely not fucking happening. 
</p>
<p>“Oh, no, thanks,” Dean cried back, shaking his head and waving an arm. “I’m all good.”</p>
<p>Jac and Kimmie didn’t seem to care as they whizzed around Bessie and David, seeming more intent on beating each other with sticks. But Nadeen’s eyes narrowed as Dean, Donna, and Roger came to a stop around her at the edge of the outdoor rink.</p>
<p>“Well, we can’t play with just five people!” </p>
<p>Donna waved her glove around at the busy park. “Loads’a people around, Nae-Nae. Find someone else, Dean doesn’t wanna play, and besides, we didn’t bring no skates for him.”</p>
<p>Nadeen rolled her eyes. “David brought him a spare.”</p>
<p>“No, really,” Dean insisted, feeling the pressure on. “You don’t want me out there. I’ll break my neck and maybe someone else's. What about Donna?”</p>
<p>Donna opened her mouth but Nadeen waved her off anyway. “She’s no good.”</p>
<p>“She’s better than me, probably,” Dean countered.</p>
<p>“I can play, Nadeen,” Donna replied coolly. “I didn’t take no figure skatin’ like you did, but I can smack a puck around better than your grade schoolers.”</p>
<p>“That settles it then!” Roger interrupted with a smile. “Donnie, get on that ice. Dean will keep my old ass company.”</p>
<p>Nadeen groaned. “Dad—”</p>
<p>“Good luck, Donnie,” her dad said to Donna, gripping her mitten in his and giving her hand a squeeze.</p>
<p>“Fine,” Nadeen sighed, shuffling off land and gliding onto the ice, turning towards them with an elegant swoop around, showering a random kid skating by in shaved ice. “But Donna’s on mom and Kimmie’s team. Get your skates on, hurry up now.”</p>
<p>While Nadeen sped off across the ice to go wrangle her children and scold them for smacking each other over the helmets with hockey sticks, Donna rolled her eyes and got to work putting on skates she’d packed into her backpack before leaving the house.</p>
<p>When she breathed, “Wish me luck…” Dean smiled at her and raised a thumb at her, he expected her to skate off, but she glanced at her father quickly and then ducked down, giving Dean a peck on the lips. </p>
<p>“Good luck,” Dean yelled after her when she finally did glide onto the ice, a few seconds delayed as his face heated up and his heart flopped around in his chest like a drunk fish. Hey, as torturous as it was to be lovey-dovey with Donna and have it mean nothing ultimately, at least his cheeks were warm.</p>
<p>“Sit down, son,” Roger chuckled. “The kids will throw a tantrum after the first goal and we can be on our way to lunch. We won’t be here long.”</p>
<p>“Good,” Dean admitted, dropping down onto some snowy benches along the edge of the ice, dreading how cold and wet his ass was gonna be for the next few hours. “‘Cause it’s damn cold out.”</p>
<p>“Eh, it’s nippy, but I bet it’s real mild in South Dakota right now, so don’t blame ya.”</p>
<p>Dean watched snow fall lightly into the white tufts of Roger’s beard. “Yeah, it was raining when we left Sioux Falls, but I’m from Kansas. It’s about six degrees warmer than Sioux Falls most of the time. I was in a t-shirt the other day.”</p>
<p>“Kansas?” Roger asked, aghast, his bushy eyebrows jumping up onto his forehead. “You live in Kansas? And you’re seein’ my girl?”</p>
<p>Dean shrugged and smiled. “The drive isn’t too bad.”</p>
<p>“That’s gotta be ‘bout seven hours of drivin’!” Roger was beaming, his cheeks rosier than ever against the white landscape around them of the community park.</p>
<p>Grinning a bit, Dean corrected, “Well, ‘bout five and a half, but that’s if you follow traffic laws. I drive a ‘67 Impala, sir. She’s not meant to drive the speed limit. I’m usually at Donna’s place in four.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Roger agreed, his eyes wide and in awe. “I bet, son, I bet. She’s probably a beauty, she is. Got pictures?”</p>
<p>A bit taken aback—no one usually cared about his car—Dean asked slowly, “Of my car? Or Donna?”</p>
<p>Roger’s booming laugh echoed around the park and Dean found himself grinning, unable to resist the tickled look on Roger’s face. </p>
<p>“You’re a trickster, you are,” Roger chortled, gesturing out to his family—Donna had shoved Nadeen to the ground in a not-so-legal body check, and the twins were scooting across the ice on their butts while David scored a goal on Bessie. “Now show me some pictures of that car before they realise we’re having more fun than them and toss us both through the ice.”</p>
<p>Pulling out his phone, Dean bit his lip excitedly, and began scrolling through his camera roll with fingers he couldn’t feel anymore.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Roger had been right about the game not lasting long. The twins got bored of hockey and took off their skates in the middle of the rink, only to wail a minute later about their feet being cold and their socks being wet. Bessie had to comfort them with David’s awkward help—he was patting his son on the head and looking panicked at the idea of parenting—because Donna and Nadeen were yelling at each other about the validity of a goal that had accidentally been shot into the net by a random passersby. </p>
<p>Roger and Dean, on the other hand, had a great time sitting off to the side. Roger asked Dean every question remotely possible about the Impala, from what was under her hood, to how she drove, to how he maintained her. It was with genuine curiosity that he pried, and Dean was more than happy to chatter about his car. A rarity it genuinely was for him to have someone to talk about normal people stuff with. It was almost a shame when the damp and irate half of the family came off the ice and put a stop to that conversation, even if it meant Dean might be able to move indoors to where he could feel his face and extremities.</p>
<p>Thankfully, the restaurant they were celebrating Roger’s birthday at was in the same park, overlooking what was probably a really nice lake-view in the summer. The inside was rustic and homey, and most importantly, they had a table by a roaring stone fireplace that was warming Dean up real quick. His ass didn’t even feel damp and uncomfortable anymore. While he’d initially thought this entire lunch was going to be awkward, Roger insisted Dean tell him more about the Impala and where he’d learned to maintain a car of that calibre. </p>
<p>Next thing they all knew, food was in front of their faces, Dean was sipping on a dark foaming stout that Roger insisted was the best beer on the menu, and he was dry. Well, except for the claminess in his hands that came from the mixture of pain and excitement due to Donna’s arm draped around the back of his chair and her fingernails playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.</p>
<p>The downside of her playing with the hair at the back of his neck was because she was sitting back, holding her fork in one hand, hovering it over her food. It meant she wasn’t eating, too busy glaring at her sister. </p>
<p>“I just think the butter on the potato <em>and </em>sour cream is overkill,” Nadeen lectured, waving her fork at Donna’s plate. “You’re doin’ so well, I can see it in your face, you finally got more of a jawline. And I know how it is with you; you getch yerself into a relationship and ya just let yourself go. I’m just lookin’ out for you—”</p>
<p>“Nadeen,” Bessie said, exasperated and looking a bit stressed around her eyes, a spoonful of soup hovering in front of her mouth. “Please. It’s your father’s birthday. Can we have some peace?”</p>
<p>Nadeen scoffed, looking offended. “I’m just lookin’ out for her, ma. The best revenge in a breakup is happiness, and how’s Doug supposed to see that she’s happy if...you know?”</p>
<p>Anger burned in Dean’s chest, but he instead kept twirling his fork in the sloppy bolognese under his face. Beside him, the prongs of Donna’s fork tapped into the napkin beside her plate.</p>
<p>“I’m happy<em>, </em>Nae-Nae,” she said through her teeth. “I’m doin’ just fine. I’m healthy—no matter what you think. I got the girls, I got my job, I got Dean—” She glanced over at him, and they both blushed, but when she returned her gaze to her sister, her eyes flashed. “And I ain’t tryna compare my life to Doug’s. I don’t think about him no more, I—”</p>
<p>“It’s just,” Nadeen powered on, ignoring Donna, “Doug’s doin’ so well. I heard he was promoted to Chief of Police! Elected to City council! After the things he said to you—”</p>
<p>“The unfounded judgements he made about her weight?” Dean said coldly, his eyes narrowing.</p>
<p>“Right,” Nadeen said, not bothering to glance his way or pick up on the irony. “After he said all those things, I just really wanted to come back at him with a success story ‘bout you, Donnie.”</p>
<p>“Nadeen, I think that’s enough,” Roger said kindly, scrunching his nose at his daughter. “Maybe we should talk about somethin’ else.”</p>
<p>“Agreed,” Bessie said, patting her husband on the arm and looking around. “Dean! Why don’t you tell us more about your—”</p>
<p>“Look, I don’t mean to bring this up,” Nadeen interrupted, plowing over her mother’s topic shift. “But we’ve been worried about you, Donnie. I don’t mean to be harsh. We’re just worried, all of us, and no one wants to say nothing, but it’s been six months since ya moved and we haven’t talked much—”</p>
<p>“Ma and Pops call me all the time,” Donna replied flatly, scrunching her face into the most passive aggressive expression Dean had ever seen on her face. It was like he was seeing a new side of her and he kind of dug it.</p>
<p>“Well, since ya moved, you haven’t taken much time to call <em>me</em>, now have you?” Nadeen asked in a light tone, flashing Donna a smile. “I’m worried ya didn’t leave here for good reasons. It wasn’t like you got a promotion or more money. Ya moved for questionable reasons, didn’t ya? To take care of some kids that aren’t even yours—”</p>
<p>“Donna and Jody are doing really good work,” Dean interrupted, attracting every pair of eyes at the table. He stared hard at Nadeen. “They’ve given those girls second chances. I know Alex and Claire. I don’t know if they’d’ve had the life they have now without Jody and Donna. You have no idea what it’s like to be raised with no parents, and you have no idea the value the comes with adults who have no obligation to help you, takin’ the reins and trying to make life better for you, without wanting anything back in return. You have <em>no </em>idea.”</p>
<p>He had rambled, and maybe he hadn’t been as eloquent as he wanted to, but Nadeen was being a real dickhead and maybe his hands were shaking a bit around his fork. He set it down and pretended to flatten down the napkin in his lap.</p>
<p>Donna’s hand found his under the table and she murmured, “It’s okay, Dean. You don’t gotta defend me.”</p>
<p>But her eyes were wide and glittery, twinkling with a subtle happiness that he was more than thrilled about putting there. With a shrug of one shoulder, he said, “Sorry. I, uh, sorry. Spoke outta turn. Not my business.”</p>
<p>Nadeen watched them both, and Dean noticed her cheeks colour at the tops. While she did have the decency to look a bit less sharp, she still said tightly, “It really <em>isn’t </em>your business, Dean—”</p>
<p>Bessie seemed to fluff up like a cat. “<em>Nadeen, </em>that is entirely enough. Yer being rude.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Nadeen piped up, waving at her children who were dragging chicken nuggets through ketchup and dipping them in their orange juice, “it’s not like she’s had any experience with raising kids, it just makes no sense. I think this Jody woman can deal with two teenagers on her own—”</p>
<p>“I’m <em>not </em>moving back,” Donna said in a huff, stabbing at her potato. “Drop it, Nae-Nae. And they’re not teenagers, they’re young women. Claire <em>just</em> turned nineteen.”</p>
<p>“Exactly, they’re ladies. They don’t need caretakers—”</p>
<p>Dean thought he was gonna puke for a second, but nope—just more words. He raised his head, jerking his eyes up from his plate. “They’re kids. Just because they’re older doesn’t mean they don’t need kick ass role models. They’re still learning how to be normal again, after losing everything.”</p>
<p>This was why Dean didn’t do family things. He had no idea how to behave around a significant other’s parents, but he was pretty sure one of the rules was to <em>not </em>get in fights with their kids. Still, Donna’s hand was warm around his under the table. </p>
<p>Nadeen smiled like venom—passive aggressive didn’t cut it. “I think you’re projecting, Dean.”</p>
<p>Roger, who had been nothing but cheery and soft-spoken, suddenly sat forward in his chair and warned, “That’s <em>enough</em>, Nadeen. You show our guest respect.”</p>
<p>David, who hadn’t said a word and was so boring and quiet that he may as well have been a bump in notch in the wooden siding surrounding them, got up, murmuring something about the bathroom. The twins made “bbrrrrr, CRASH!” noises, drowning their chicken nuggets in juice. Bessie was red in the face and Roger was staring steadily at Nadeen from under bush brows.</p>
<p>The silence was awkward. </p>
<p>Dean laughed a bit, trying to shake off the discomfort zeroed in on him from every pair of eyes at the table. Well, except for Donna, who was staring at him and smiling. </p>
<p>“You’re doin’ good work, D-train,” Dean said with a wink, though it was less flirty and he hoped the warmth unfurled in his chest made it to his smile. “After my dad died too, I dunno if I’d’ve made it without Bobby. Hell, even when he was alive, Bobby took Sam and I in when he didn’t have to. What you’re doing with those girls—you and Jodes—it’s good work, Don. Not sure if I ever told you that.”</p>
<p>Nadeen seemed to have paled, her mouth dropping open. At the mention of his father’s death—maybe Donna hadn’t warned them about that like she had about his mom—Bessie made a sad little ‘oh’ sound.</p>
<p>Roger, though, reached over and clapped Dean on the arm. “Well said, son. Gotta love those people who’ll support ya through your life. Ain’t nothing beats that.”</p>
<p>Nadeen blinked hard a few times and glanced quickly at her parents, the depth of her guilt rising with her glass. “Well, then...I suppose we should cheers for Donnie.”</p>
<p>“Yuppers,” Roger agreed, grunting as he leaned forward to take up his glass. “To doin’ good work and makin’ a difference. Proud of you, Donnie. The best birthday gift had been seein’ ya here happy as a pig in poop,” he chuckled, giving his daughter a wink. “All I could ask for is ya being pure of heart, smilin’, and loved by someone who supports ya so much. Cheers to Dean, too.”</p>
<p>While classes clinked and Donna got up out of her seat to go plant a big kiss on her father’s cheek, Dean felt like dying inside. This was torture. Absolutely torture.</p>
<p>He loved her family. He loved her mom and her dad, and Nadeen was a bitch, sure, but he could forgive that. What he couldn’t forgive was himself; he was lying to all these people. He didn’t want to disappoint Roger and Bessie, not when they’d been so good to him…</p>
<p>The smell of Donna—soft perfume and her lavender body spray—wafted up his nostrils as she sat back down beside him. He looked up, meaning to lean forward to whisper an apology in her ear for getting in an argument with her sister in front of her entire family, but Donna’s rosy cheeks were round and dimpled, her big smile spread across her face and dancing in her eyes. </p>
<p>“Thanks, D. Don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she whispered before leaning forward and pressing her lips to his.</p>
<p>Torture. This was torture.</p>
<p>She pulled away and he felt the ridiculous impulse to cry.</p>
<p>“This Bobby,” Roger asked, shuffling closer to the table and picking up his fork again. “He ever teach you how to ice fish, Dean?”</p>
<p>Surprised, Dean turned his head and shook it in puzzlement. “Nah, not Bobby.”</p>
<p>“Your father?” Roger asked. “He ever teach ya?”</p>
<p>“Nope. My dad taught me how to take care of a car—” He grinned when Roger winked. “—and Bobby taught me how to throw a ball like the best of ‘em, but no, sir, no ice fishing. Not a lot of ice fishing going on in South Dakota, I think, but hey, what do I know?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Roger said, after chewing around some saucy ribs, “how say you we get out on the ice tonight and I show you how to catch you some walleye and pike?”</p>
<p>“Ice fishing in March?” Nadeen asked, wrinkling her nose. “Pops, you won’t catch nothin’.”</p>
<p>“Oh hush,” Bessie said quickly, shooting her daughter a side-eyed glare. Although, she did turn to her husband and say gently, “Roger, you think it’s a good idea? With your chair and—”</p>
<p>“It’s birthday tradition,” Donna interrupted, shuffling closer to her plate and hovering a forkful of buttery potato in front of her mouth. “Ma, please. It’ll be fun. It’s been a whole minute since I’ve been ice fishin’.”</p>
<p>Bessie looked about ready to argue, but Dean slid in to save Roger and pointed out ikindly, “I’d like to learn how.”</p>
<p>Roger beamed at him and Bessie went all soft in the face like when Dean had brought up his mom. With a smile, she nodded. “Of course you would, dear. I suppose it’s all right. Y’all just don’t come back too late. I’ll worry.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to worry.” Dean winked at her. “Be back at a reasonable hour, promise.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Dean had seen ice fishing in movies. It always kinda looked like fun. Roger talked him through drilling the hole, and gave him a history lesson of the lake, and what kind of fish swam under the inches thick ice under their feet. They set up the lures and rods and Dean felt a sense of excitement he hadn’t felt in a while. Learning normal people things always filled him with the same sense of adrenaline as taking on a new monster. He was kind of excited to tell Sam about it, especially because Sam had plenty of normal people experiences, but probably had never gone ice fishing.</p>
<p>Turns out ice fishing was kinda boring; all they did was stare at the line sunk into the hole. Also, Dean felt anxious about Donna lighting <em>a goddamn campfire </em>in a truck tire frame on the ice—the <em>ice</em>! Last time he checked, flame melted ice, so he scooted away from the fire for as long as he could, convinced he’d meet a sticky end after falling through ice and drowning in cold-as-balls water. He thought being shredded to pieces by hell hounds had been pretty humiliating, but frozen into a popsicle, bobbing up onto the surface of the water in the spring for some poor fishies to find? </p>
<p>The demons at the gates of Hell would be <em>shrieking</em> with laughter in his nippy, frost-bitten face.</p>
<p>Two hours into fishing, Dean had confessed his fear of falling through the water, which only resulted in echoing, booming twin howls from Donna and her dad. They assured him that the two feet of ice under him was sturdy and all the fire was doing was getting the ice a bit brown and slushy, he shuffled closer to it, hoping he’d be able to regain feeling in his fingers and toes long enough to potentially reel up a fish sometime in the next forty years.</p>
<p>The sky went orange, then periwinkle, and then black above their heads as the evening shifted into night. Dean’s fear of the fire faded by then, and so did Donna.</p>
<p>Warmed by the fire and the few beers they’d each had as they ‘fished’, she’d fallen asleep on Dean’s shoulder, snoring lightly into the puffy coat lended to him.</p>
<p>Roger’s cheeks were rosy as ever even in the darkness of night. His smile only looked deeper as the fire flickered shadows and highlights across his face. </p>
<p>“Oh boy,” Roger chuckled, staring at his daughter warmly, “is she ever sweet on you, son.”</p>
<p>Dean wanted the ice to break under him and lead him to sweet, sweet popsicle death. It was nothing more than he deserved. With a soft laugh under his breath, he murmured, “Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>This felt like absolute shit. Not only was he lying right to Roger’s face, but his heart ached, knowing that she was not sweet on him. Not at all. Not for real, at least.</p>
<p>But Roger didn’t know that. With a glimmer in his eye and a hearty chuckle in his tone, Roger admitted, “Glad she ended up with you and not Doug—the first or the second. She talked ‘bout you all the time.”</p>
<p>Dean went still, very, very aware of Donna’s warm breath puffing over his jawline and the smell of her perfume. “Me?” he asked, stunned. “She’s talked to you about me?”</p>
<p>“Oh, ‘course she has,” Roger laughed, scrubbing his mitten over his beared, only making it look more wild. Mimicking his daughter, he said, “Met this guy named ‘Dean’. My friend ‘Dean’ this, my friend ‘Dean’ that. ‘Oh, pops, he’s real nice’, ‘he’s real funny’. Nothing but good things ‘bout you, son. Heard your a brace man. Puts others before himself.”</p>
<p>The cold faded away. Under the four solid inches of fluffy Canadian goose feathers, he was boiling. His palms sweat as his heart slammed into his chest like it wanted to break out. Dean could almost <em>feel</em> his blood pressure rise, rushing through his veins.</p>
<p>He didn’t know what to say, how to respond to that news. </p>
<p>Roger went on, staring warming at the fire. “Nothin better than fallin’ in love with your best friend. It’s the recipe for a happy marriage, let me tell ya. Me and Bessie been together for forty-five years.”</p>
<p>“You were friends first?” Dean asked, licking at his dry lips, tasting sweat on the curve under his chin despite the frigid bite in the air.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah,” Roger laughed, his belly bouncing even under his puffy winter coat. “She insisted I take her to prom ‘cause we were best friend an’ didn’t have no dates. Two months later we were engaged. ‘Course stuff was different back then, but I wouldn’t’ve done it no other way.”</p>
<p>Doing everything in his power not to relate the story back to his and Donna’s fuck-buddy arrangement because it wasn’t the same thing. <em>It wasn’t the same thing</em>, he urged himself to remember. </p>
<p>“I really like Bessie,” Dean said, flashing Roger a smile. </p>
<p>Roger’s brows rose. With fondness, he said quietly, “Good thing, too, ‘cause she’s made a special place for you in her heart, hasn’t she? For the orphan boy who treats her youngest baby with love and respect.”</p>
<p>Maybe if Dean face-planted out in the middle of the lake, the heat from his angst would burn it’s way through the ice and drown him.</p>
<p>“The girls get frustrated with Bessie—she can be a bit—”</p>
<p>Frazzle-dazzled, Dean recalled.</p>
<p>“—flustered in the best of times,” Roger admitted. His warm brown eyes rose from the fire to hold Dean’s stare. “But they don’t know the half of it. I fell into a real bad depression when Donna was just a youngster. And Bess got herself a good job, paid for my pills, made sure I went my appointments and you know, she listened to me when I needed to talk. Hell—” Roger laughed. “—even when I didn’t wanna talk, she listened and she ain’t never judged me. She said, ‘you stay home and raise the girls’, ‘cause that’s what I loved. It’s where I had passion.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like her.”</p>
<p>Nodding by wobbling his head from side to side, Roger concurred and rubbed at the tip of his bulbous red nose. “Let me tell ya, with all her fussin’ and worryin’, Bessie is my best friend. Always was. Never gonna stop being my friend. That’s the secret sauce, son.”</p>
<p>Dean didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t stupid; he was picking up what Roger was putting down, but it hurt like a fucking knife to the chest because—</p>
<p>“Dean, you and Donna; you best friends?” Roger asked thoughtfully.</p>
<p>Dean recalled sitting with Donna on the Impala, going through her Tinder matches, their chuckles melting into one another as they laughed non-stop, and fell into the memory of her big grin as she wiggled her hips at him, holding the nurse scrubs up against her body in the costume store. He heard himself tell her about his mom, and about Sam and Eileen, and Catherine, and listened to her give advice about finding love, about asking Cas out. He saw her face inches from his, separated only by a piece of pie with a dollop of whipped cream and a flickering green candle; <em>Happy birthday, Dean.</em></p>
<p>“Best friend ever had, I figure,” Dean murmured, turning his face into Donna’s messy ponytail, her curls tickling his throat. His Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed, trying to rid himself of a horrible lump in his throat and the stinging behind his eyes.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Donna wasn’t sure where they went wrong.</p>
<p>Or where they’d went right.</p>
<p>It had all happened so fast, really. One minute she was sliding under the covers, teasing Dean about the big, whopping zero amount of fish he’d caught tonight, and the next minute, she was sliding her legs over his hips, straddling them and leaning over to capture his lips.</p>
<p>They’d said no sex. Or rather, specifically, <em>she’d </em>said no sex. And he’d agreed. So, really, they’d both agreed. </p>
<p>But ever since she’d woken up after drooling all over Dean’s shoulder out on the ice, something had shifted. The generic hand holding and cheek kisses and cuddles they’d been putting on for the family because that’s what dating-people did suddenly felt different. When her dad went off to bed, and Dean came downstairs in his pyjamas post-hot-shower to accept fresh cocoa from Ma, they’d settled snugly on the couch together, Dean’s arm not only going over he shoulder as they watched the end of Frozen with the twins, but going over her shoulder and pulling her close. His fingers drew pictures into her bare arm and when he spoke to her, he did it into her hair, his voice hushed. </p>
<p>And when everyone else had gone to bed, leaving them alone in the living room in front of the dying fire, he hadn’t moved away, and he hadn’t pulled back when she melted into his side, wrapping her arm around his middle experimentally. They weren’t new to cuddling, but they were new to cuddling like <em>this, </em>like a couple.</p>
<p>And when they didn’t get ready for bed separately, when they stood side-by-side in front of the mirror brushing their teeth, she caught him staring fondly, a weird soft look in his eye. It had her heart dancing in her chest, shaking its ass around her ribs and leaving her feeling light.</p>
<p>And when he turned on his side in the bed, kissing at her shoulder and murmuring an apology for ‘embarrassing her’ at dinner, all bets were off.</p>
<p>No one had made her feel more appreciated than Dean. Hearing from Nadeen that her whole family had been worried that she’d gone to South Dakota for unworthy reasons, that’d cut like a knife, even though her parents had tried to shut down the conversation. That insecurity had been lurking in the back of her mind for months. To have it confirmed…</p>
<p>And then to have Dean thank her for her work with Jody, and show appreciation for the care she was trying to provide for Claire and Alex…</p>
<p>And being subject to Dean’s fond, glittering green eyes and kind smile, and warm hands on hers…</p>
<p>For him to apologize for the way he defended her? He was dead wrong—he deserved to be thanked for what he did, not to apologize—but it cracked the resistance she had inside her.</p>
<p>Maybe he didn’t love her or want her like she wanted him, but he was laying down beside her, warm, and good, and hell, pretty freakin’ cuddly and sexy...maybe they could boink a little and not ruin much…</p>
<p>And he kissed back when she kissed him, so this couldn’t be completely batty, right?</p>
<p>She just hadn’t expected the tone to shift as it did.</p>
<p>He looked so...soft in the warm pink light the glowed from her magenta bedside lamps. His cheeks looked so kissable, especially as they dimpled when he smiled, biting at his bottom lip. She probably imagined it, but the lines around his eyes went smooth as his eyes took on a strange glitter when he searched her face. He didn’t stare at her lips, lustful and hungry like usual, and he wasn’t laughing or cracking jokes like they normally did.</p>
<p>Instead, when she sat up in his lap and tucked hair behind her ear, asking if this was okay, he sat up and buried his hand in her hair, kissing her deep, a whimper escaping from his throat instead of a growl. His touches were soft, his fingers brushing over her face like he was trying to map out her freckles. She couldn’t help but sigh happily as her heartbeat quickened yet softened. She dared to return the same soft touch and was pleased when he sucked in a sharp breath and pulled away just a few inches, staring into her eyes as she dragged the pads of her fingers over his brow bone and down his cheeks, tickling over his jawline. </p>
<p>He watched her with intensity when she reached down and pulled down the waistband of his boxer-briefs and freed the hard cock that’d been pressed into her thigh. She stared at him, noticing his throat bobbing when she slid back, away from him, and tugged off her oversized tye-dye t-shirt, throwing it onto the floor. She watched his tongue dart out over his bottom lip as she slid her underwear over her hips and shimmy them off before throwing them after her shirt. It probably didn’t look the sexiest, but Dean didn’t look the tiniest bit put off.</p>
<p>The moment she moved back onto his lap, his hands were on her face, and on her shoulders, and down her back. He rubbed at her skin and dragged his nails down the tip of her spine. When she reached between them again and rubbed at her clit with the tip of his leaking cock, he moaned into her mouth, only to have his breath hitch when she slid down onto him.</p>
<p>His hands clung to her, his arms tight around her middle and his mouth all over her collar bone. His forehead pressed to her chest as he took a nipple in his mouth and massaged her breasts with his hands as he kissed her.</p>
<p>She couldn’t explain why the sex was different, but it was. They didn’t exchange a single word, but Dean’s eyes were full of meaning, of messages she didn’t know how to interpret. He kissed her deeply, and fucked up into her slowly, rolling his hips with sensuality, with no rush. His hand slid between them and rubbed her clit with firm but slow pressure—and when she came, he watched her with an expression of ruin and enchantment, his lips parted, his eye pinched at the corners. A hot flush was curled in whorls and patches over his chest and neck, and splayed beautifully across his cheeks. </p>
<p>The second time she came, he swallowed her moan with his mouth, his tongue dragging across hers as she shuddered in his arms, and for a stupid, hysterical moment, she felt like she was being made love to, like their relationship was real and not just some charade for the weekend.</p>
<p>So sue her when she held him too, when he came with a soft, breathy, ‘oh’ into her ear, her lips brushing against her cheek. She scrubbed her fingers through his hair when he shook in soft tremors in her arms, and accidentally whispered, “That’s it, baby. Come just for me.”</p>
<p>They stayed there, shaking and embracing until he raised his head from the crook of her neck and couldn’t look at her, his eyes downcast to the floor, looking a bit far away.</p>
<p>Uncomfortable suddenly, she lifted herself off of him and laid down on her side of the bed, a pregnant amount of uneasy space between them. </p>
<p>Too many moments of tension-filled silence passed, and then Dean asked in a rough murmur, “We’re just friends, right?”</p>
<p>Donna stared at the popcorn ceiling, her hands on her stomach. Her toes curled into the duvet. “Best friends,” she whispered back, feeling a sting behind her eyes.</p>
<p>Dean was quiet.</p>
<p>Then, she felt him shift and was cast in shadow when he sat up, blocking the light from the magenta, beaded lamp. With his back to her, she dared look over at him, and watched his fingers rub at the back of his neck, his shoulders a tight line. </p>
<p>“That was a mistake, wasn’t it?” he asked in a rumble. His hands stopped rubbing, merely clinging to his skin, pressed there, making his nails white.</p>
<p>Of course he thought it was a mistake and not a test, not like she’d meant it, to see if there was something between them, a glimpse, or a chance at something more. He must’ve seen her emotions on her face, plain as day. Who had she been kidding when she went into this thinking it was just sex? She knew it would mean more to her than it did to him. </p>
<p>“This whole thing was a mistake,” she replied back. It’s what he wanted to hear, of course. </p>
<p>“It’s wrong,” Dean replied stiffly, and his face turned a bit. She could see from the side-profile that he looked angry. Insistently, he repeated, “It’s wrong what we’re doing here, fooling everybody. Making them… Making them think we’re in love.”</p>
<p>“We’re not,” Donna insisted, fear and pain flaring up in her heart. “I-I know we’re not. It’s fake, Dean.”</p>
<p>She just needed him to believe she wasn’t in love. She could <em>not </em>lose him as a friend. She could live with him never knowing how she felt, but she could not lose him. She couldn’t.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “I know it is.”</p>
<p>He looked away again and she was left staring at the back of his head. </p>
<p>Feeling like she might cry, her heart aching badly—it was one thing to know he didn’t love her and it was another thing to hear it—she sat up and shifted off the bed, bending over to pick her shirt up off the floor and slide it over her head. </p>
<p>“Gotta get cleaned up,” she murmured, and headed towards the door, her face lowered.</p>
<p>She didn’t look back at him, but later, when she returned, the lights were off and Dean was asleep, turned away from her.</p>
<p>It would be a few hours until she fell asleep, herself. With so much space between them, she felt cold and horribly, horribly alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Lovers With Benefits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean was asked so many times ‘what’s wrong?’ by Eileen, that he’d learned how to sign ‘I’m fine’ back to her without even speaking. Not only did he not trust himself to say it without a wobble in his voice for his own sake, but he didn’t trust his chin not to crumple or his eyes not to water, for her to see that he was <em>not </em>fine in his face. </p><p>Eileen didn’t think it was cute, and she fixed him with a scowl each time. Sometimes she raised a skeptical brow at him and said, “You’re going to tell me, or I’ll tell Sam.”</p><p>As if she needed to <em>tell </em>Sam. Sam had only asked him if he was all right about forty times in the last two weeks, and that wasn’t including the texts sent from across the library or kitchen table or the other side of Dean’s bedroom door. </p><p>Dean just wanted everyone to leave him alone.</p><p>He wanted to sleep all day without annoying knocks at his door and food brought to him. He wanted to be able to eat a meal at four in the morning in peace without Sam padding his way into the room ‘coincidentally’ awake at the same time. He wanted Eileen to stop giving him pity-eyes as she set a cup of coffee down in front of him while saying, “You look tired.”</p><p>You okay?</p><p>Wanna talk?</p><p>Listen, we’re worried.</p><p>Open up, man. </p><p>I’m here if you wanna—</p><p>Blah, blah, blah. </p><p>Was it any surprise that he ended up staring at two fat teardrops soaking into his toast one morning, when they’d needled him for the hundredth time and he just couldn’t take it anymore? It must’ve been a surprise to Sam and Eileen because they faded into silence, staring at him when he raised his elbows onto the table and pressed his palms into his eyes, his stupid-fucking-chin scrunching as he tried-and-failed to hold himself together.</p><p>For all the fucking pressure they’d put on him to talk, they sure as fuck didn’t have much to say when he finally broke. Maybe they—especially Sam—expected him to explode, to yell, or throw things off the table, or lash out. Usually he did, of course. That was his modus operandi, typically.</p><p>But usually he had somebody to be mad at. This time, he wasn’t really mad at anybody, he was just grieving with no one to point fingers at. Not other than himself, of course. </p><p>He’d let this happen <em>again. </em>First Cas, now Donna.</p><p>To their credit, while they didn’t have much to say as the story poured from Dean’s mouth like word vomit, like the tale had been compounding and building at the back of his throat for weeks, they were kind when he was done. Sam didn’t tease him or smirk, and Eileen didn’t point out that he was an idiot, or that he’d obviously made a huge mistake by offering to go to Donna’s family gathering. If either of Sam or Eileen had done any of those things, Dean wouldn’t have blamed them. He deserved to be teased and mocked and reminded that he was a dumbass.</p><p>But Eileen just pushed a napkin into his hands, urging him to wipe at his tears, and she told him how sorry she was that it hadn’t worked out. And she knew to give Sam a minute with Dean, excusing herself to go make ‘a call’, which he knew meant she was going to scroll through Facebook in the library.</p><p>“Dude,” Sam murmured, half of his face pinching into a wince, “you could’ve told me. We were worried about you, thought the worst, you know?”</p><p>“Like an apocalypse?” Dean offered, his eyes now dry but his nose running. He sniffled, and picked at his toast, turning it in the air in front of his face like it was fascinating. </p><p>“No,” Sam said with a little huff, “you would’ve told us about another apocalypse. I thought...I thought you were sick or something. With...with something bad and you didn’t wanna tell us. It didn’t even cross my mind that you’d...been broken up with.”</p><p>Dean chewed on some toast and sniffed sharply. “I’d rather take another apocalypse. And,” he added gruffly, dropping the toast onto his place, rubbing the crumbs onto the plate from between his fingers, “there was no breakup because there was no relationship. It was all fuckin’ fake. Months of telling myself it was nothing and falling face first into emotional bullshit without knee pads on. Who was I fuckin’ kidding, Sam?”</p><p>Sam’s lips pursed and his brows knitted softly over sympathetic eyes; the expression he reserved for victims and grieving widows. </p><p>“I always knew this stuff—” <em>Love? </em>“—wasn’t meant for people like me. Hunters don’t have the luxury of relationships.”</p><p>Glancing over his shoulders to where Eileen had retreated, Sam raised a brow at Dean. “Really, dude?”</p><p>“Well,” Dean amended roughly, poking himself in the chest, “not me, Sam. I’ve tried the apple pie B.S. and it didn’t pan out, remember? Everything I touch turns to dust. I’m… I’m… emotionally unavailable,” Dean trailed off in a murmur, his heart sinking as he finally accepted his fate.</p><p>“No, you’re not,” Sam said with an amused huff. “You’re emotionally burnt out, that’s all. But I would <em>never</em>, of all the things, call you emotionally unavailable. Sorry, dude. You’re pretty available to every emotion.”</p><p>“Cool, good talk,” Dean replied bluntly, turning and throwing his leg over the bench, grabbing his plate of half-eaten food off the table. </p><p>With an aborted sigh, Sam added, flustered, “Dean, don’t shut down again, man, come on! Look, Eileen and I know now so let us help. Don’t go shut yourself up in your room again and hibernate like a bear—”</p><p>“I’ll hibernate all I want, thank you,” Dean snapped, tilting his toast into the open garbage bin with a jerk of his wrist. “Who do I have to punch around here to get a little room to mope, huh?”</p><p>“Deep depression is not moping, Dean,” Sam scolded, turning in his seat to follow Dean’s stride around the kitchen. “When was the last time you showered? Changed out of those pyjamas? We’re gonna talk about this.”</p><p>“We’re not gonna talk about this,” Dean countered, climbing up the steps to retire to his bed, feeling the weight of social exhaustion snaking back into his muscles. He was fatigued just being in the room with Sam. </p><p>After him, Sam barked, “I’ll call in reinforcements!”</p><p>Dean raised a middle finger over his shoulder and grumbled, “Be my guest, jackass.”</p><p>Except, maybe Dean didn’t give Sam enough credit. Because not only did he force Dean to shower and get out of his pyjamas, but he did it by bringing in the big guns.</p><p>Castiel and Jody stood at the end of his bed, Jody with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, and Cas with his hands in his pockets and a look of uneasiness on his face. </p><p>Both were scary for totally different reasons.</p><p>“I drove five hours, Dean,” Jody warned, tilting her chin down a bit, fixing him with the strictest mom-eyes Dean had been the target of in years. “I drove five hours here because your brother and Eileen are worried about you. So change out of those pants, and wash your hair, and meet us in the kitchen.”</p><p>Castiel nodded, shifting on his feet with an air of discomfort. “Your hair does look dirty, Dean.”</p><p>Under the disapproving glare from Jody and the awkward glances from Cas, Dean was sufficiently shamed into showering. He scrubbed himself clean, dried off, put on deodorant—okay, maybe he shouldn’t have skimped out on deodorant, it did feel good to smell better—and walked into the kitchen with his tail between his legs.</p><p>“Great to see you, Jodes,” Dean began, sliding onto the bench in front of her and Cas. “How was the drive?”</p><p>Cas’ dry lips pursed over the rim of coffee he definitely didn’t need to drink. “Long. Cramped.”</p><p>“What, d’you make him sit in the back of the cruiser?” Dean asked Jody, smirking at Cas.</p><p> “Hilarious,” Jody muttered mid-sip, and then gestured to Dean with her cup. “That’s enough with the small talk, Dean. Sam called me sounding panicked.” She leaned over and Dean almost leaned away at the flash in her eyes. “What did you and Donna do?”</p><p>Oh… So maybe Donna had told her already. Maybe she’d told Jody about how Dean had gone all soft and lovey-dovey on her, and pretty much made a fool of himself. </p><p>“I... I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Dean grumbled defensively, shuffling in his seat and scowling down at the dark wood of the table.</p><p>“Of course you didn’t,” Jody scolded, narrowing her eyes. “You both thought that you’d just have sex and it wouldn’t complicate anything.”</p><p>Cas’ eyes immediately snapped up to the ceiling, getting that awkward look on his face like he did whenever anyone brought up sex. The angel didn’t need coffee anyway and at this point, it was just a conduit of unnecessary heat between his palms on the table, so Dean reached forward and took it from Cas without asking.</p><p>He raised the cup to his lips to avoid answering. But Jody was a cop; she knew how to interrogate. She stared at him until the silence grew too awkward for him to stand. </p><p>After swallowing Castiel’s coffee—fuck, it was hot, damn the angel for not warning him—Dean set down the mug with a <em>clack</em>. Raising his hands at his sides, Dean shrugged and asked in a snap, “What do you want me to say, Jody? I thought it would work out. I didn’t think feelings would happen! Me and feelings don’t mix!”</p><p>Cas’ mouth twisted to the side and he lowered his gaze to the table, while Jody pointed her finger at him. “That’s it, isn’t it? You didn’t ‘think’.” Her finger bopped her temple. “And now look, you’re moping around because you feel bad and Donna is so sad that I caught her crying in her cruiser in the damn parking lot at work—”</p><p>Dean went still, staring at Jody. “What’s she crying about?”</p><p>Jody’s mouth dropped. “Excuse me?”</p><p>Blinking at her, Dean barked, half-confused, half-angry. “What’s she crying about? What does she possibly have to be upset about? I’m the idiot who...who...you <em>know</em>—and she’s the one who got all weird, ‘cause she wanted a no-strings attached thing. And, yeah, okay, that’s how it started, so I’m the one in the wrong here, gettin’ all-all-I don’t know! Fallin’ in...um…”</p><p>Castiel’s blue eyes looked like tropical water and shone like it too, looking up at him from the table. “In love.”</p><p>While Dean gestured to him like ‘yeah—that!’, Jody’s eyes widened with her mouth and she yelped, “What?!”</p><p>“Dean’s fallen in love with Donna,” Castiel said quietly, watching Dean’s face, while Jody looked perplexed.</p><p>“No, you didn’t,” she argued, but he wasn’t sure who she was trying to argue with—him or Cas or herself. “No, no. You had casual sex with Donna and then rejected her when it was obvious she was more into you than you were into her.”</p><p>“What?!” Dean exclaimed, while Castiel just said flatly, “No.”</p><p>“No, no, no,” Jody said under her breath. “You rejected her at her parents’ place.”</p><p>“No, I didn’t!” Dean said, feeling aghast, forgetting he had Cas’ cup in his hand and waved it, getting scalding coffee all down his arm. “Ow—fuck!”</p><p>Jody just stared while Castiel handed Dean a napkin from the retro holder against the wall. Accepting the tissue and wiping at his arm, Dean bared his teeth and ground out from behind them, “She had us pretend to be, like, together and then I fucked up. I forgot it was fake and well, stuff happened in her room and then she got weird. We hardly talked the next day and after we said bye to her parents, the whole fucking trip back was awkward. We hardly talked and...and then when we were back in South Dakota, she just said—” Dean did air quotes, stained napkins fluttering in his hands. “‘Don’t think we should see each other for a while’.”</p><p>Just thinking about that awkward exchange over the hood of the Impala made Dean want to throw up. Or maybe cry again.</p><p>“Oh no,” Jody groaned, her elbows thumping down onto the table, her palms covering her eyes. “What a mess.”</p><p>Castiel licked at his lips—Dean watched his tongue wet the chapped skin—and he offered in a low rumble, “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”</p><p>“No shit, Cas,” Dean replied harshly, looking between them and hating the tightness in his chest of confusion. “What the hell is going on?”</p><p>Cas glanced at Jody, and after getting an exasperated sigh from her, he looked back over at Dean, the lines around his eyes in a wince. “I believe both you and Donna are under the impression that the other holds no interest—”</p><p>“Donna’s ass over tits in love with you and thinks you wanted nothing but ass and tits,” Jody interrupted, her voice clipped, her hands thumping down onto the table. Her eyes narrowed and she ranted, “I <em>knew </em>this was a bad idea. You both get attached to people. Neither of you were made for friends-with-benefits, not with someone you already knew and cared for! You both fall too damn hard, you both care too damn much, Dean—”</p><p>“Wha—”</p><p>“Do not interrupt me, young man!” Jody said with another finger pointed in his face from across the table, her shoulders stiff. “You both lied to each other’s faces, saying this would be nothing but casual sex, and you both fell in love and now I’ve got Donna snivelling all over my house, thinking she’s been used and rejected <em>again</em>, and I’ve got you blubbering because you think she used and rejected you, too. What a goddamn mess, Dean Winchester. Only you two could have screwed this up this badly!”</p><p>Jody got to her feet and began to walk out of the room, reaching into her coat pocket. Dean picked his jaw up off the table and formulated words around his heart in his throat, choking out, “What the… <em>Where are you going?”</em></p><p>Jody’s hand flapped over her shoulder, the other already tapping at her phone screen, and she yelled, “I have to make a call!”</p><p>What the <em>hell </em>was happening?</p><p>The inside of his chest was a warzone of emotions; his heart ached in pain, still, but it beat hard, overworked with confusion, and <em>hope</em> of all things, though he was sure this was some kind of mistake—</p><p>With a groan, Dean’s elbows slid onto the table and rubbed at his face. “I’m awful at this. This is why I don’t let people close, let ‘em in, you know? It always crashes and burns. I-I don’t know how to do this love stuff.”</p><p>Except for Jody talking to Sam and Eileen in the library—or perhaps ranting loudly into her phone, the room itself was rather quiet.</p><p>“I know,” Castiel murmured. When Dean lowered his hands to the table and met Cas’ eye, a look of understanding passed between them.</p><p>Perhaps because Dean’s emotions were at their peak, or he thought, fuck it, what else did he have to lose, Dean nodded and admitted meekly, “I had a real thing for you, once. Years ago.”</p><p>He’d...said it. Acknowledged it. Finally.</p><p>A small, somewhat resigned smile curled one corner of Cas’ lips, and his blue eyes dropped to the table. His stubby fingernails tugged at the corner of Dean’s discarded napkin in a show of uncharacteristic fidgeting.</p><p>“I know,” Cas repeated fondly. </p><p>Dean rubbed at his forehead, watching Cas, his heart sinking. “So...you knew.”</p><p>“I knew.” Cas’ eyes were warm when they lifted from the napkin and faced Dean’s gaze.</p><p>“Everyone knew, didn’t they?”</p><p>“Every single person we know, I imagine,” Cas admitted, shrugging.</p><p>“Did you feel—”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Wow. They stared at each other across the table, the air heavy with the very distinct feeling of loss.</p><p>“You never acted on it,” Dean whispered, feeling a bit choked up.</p><p>Castiel—the bastard—smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Neither did you.”</p><p>Fuck the lump in his throat. Dean croaked, “It wasn’t good timing.”</p><p>“No,” Castiel conceded, his chin dropping in a resigned nod. “It wasn’t.”</p><p>Fuck. This had not been a good time to bring all this grief back, not when Dean was balls deep in a new heartache. This old wound felt fresh for a moment, and Dean had the immediate impulse to <em>blame </em>Cas, to get angry about this all over again because what never happened between them hurt <em>so </em>badly, still and…</p><p>Instead, Dean matched Cas’ smile. “What we might’ve had between us...it was too big for this world, you know?”</p><p>A solemn nod. </p><p>Swallowing the lump in his throat, both feeling weighed down and a bit freer now that they were communicating about their old feelings, Dean chuckled. “You know, I’m sure there’s an alternate universe out there where we decided to go for it.”</p><p>With that, Cas chuckled too, pulling his hands back from the napkin and sliding under the table. “That...makes me very happy. I’m sure that’s true, Dean.”</p><p>But despite their mirrored chuckles, the moment slid back into regret and in sync, the smiles faded. Maybe the feelings were in the past for Dean, but there was something about the way Cas’ eyes searched Dean’s face...</p><p>“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean murmured.</p><p>Wrinkles deepened around soft blue eyes. “Me too… Now don't make the same mistake twice, Dean Winchester.”</p><p> </p><p>Dean’s palms pressed into his eyes again, and moaned, “Love isn’t for me, I think. Cas, just look how I managed to fuck everything up. With… With you, with Donna. I think it hurts more than it’s worth.” </p><p>“We both know that’s not true,” Cas said firmly, but kindly. “I know you, Dean. I know if you do not try to make amends with Donna, it will eat away at you. Don’t let this be another regret, or path untravelled.”</p><p>Of course Cas knew that. Cas probably knew it more than anyone else.</p><p>Suddenly, Dean felt entirely exhausted. Dropping his palms to the table, he raised himself from the bench with a sigh. “I’m exhausted. Gonna go back to my all-day nap, but I should probably make sure Jody isn’t calling everyone I know to tell them how stupid I am. You comin’ to the library?”</p><p>He clapped Cas on the shoulder, but the angel shook his head, his gaze still on the place across the table where Dean had been sitting. “I’m going to sit here for a while.”</p><p>Not wanting to pry, and also knowing it might hurt to pry, Dean simply nodded and walked out of the kitchen, his stomach hurting for some reason. Half-way across the war room, he didn’t need to go talk to Jody because she walked towards him, a whiskey bottle in her hand. </p><p>“No, thanks, I’m gonna nap—” Dean started, but Jody’s scowl stopped him. </p><p>“This isn’t for you, Eeore. I’m having a well deserved drink, after the mess you and Donna’ve been putting me through,” Jody muttered, nodding into the kitchen. “Is Castiel in there?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Dean slid his hands into his pockets. “Was talkin’ to him about, uh...Donna. And stuff.”</p><p>“Stuff?” Jody’s brows curled and her eyes narrowed.</p><p>Watching a dust bunny clung to his sock, Dean rocked on his heels and muttered, “Stuff. He’s, uh...basically telling me I should talk to Donna or something.”</p><p>When he looked up at Jody, her lips were pursed and she was gazing over Dean’s shoulder into the kitchen. Slowly, she sighed, “I’m gonna need another glass, then.”</p><p>Quickly, Dean raised his hand and chuckled, “No, really, I’m good—”</p><p>“It’s not for you. I’m sensing that Cas probably needs a drink more than anyone.”</p><p>Confused, Dean narrowed his eyes. “Cas doesn’t need to drink, he’s an angel.”</p><p>With a groan, Jody walked past him and headed toward the kitchen. “I think he’s probably needing this one. Go spend time with your brother and Eileen, you’ve napped enough. And after that, you’d better take Cas’ advice and call Donna, or I’m going to drag you five hours north to clean up this goddamn mess.”</p><p>***</p><p>Despite the weird intervention-thing orchestrated by his loved ones, gathering his courage to talk to Donna was a hardship Dean wasn’t ready to face yet. Doubts plagued him in the moments when he was alone; what if they were wrong? What if they had the details twisted and Donna was simply upset because they’d lied to her parents, or because she felt guilty for having to reject Dean’s feelings? What if she was just stressed about how their friendship was essentially deteriorated, on the brink of being unfixable. They’d ruined their relationship and, really, how could they go back to how they’d been before? </p><p>What if Jody was totally confused, and really, Donna was just upset at work because Jeremy wasn’t there anymore? </p><p>What if she’d had to call her family and admit the entire thing with Dean had been a lie? Ugh, his heart hurt for her; Nadeen would never let her live it down, and fuck...Roger and Bessie must’ve been so disappointed. Her family’s approval meant everything to her...</p><p>The mope-fest continued, although this time instead of eyeing him with worry, Sam and Eileen scowled at him and accused him often of being the puppeteer of his own mopey-ness. How dare they.</p><p>So for a week, Dean watched TV in his room, showed his face only marginally more frequently than before, and probably gained five pounds on take-out Chinese food alone. If Sam and Eileen weren’t harping on him so much, he might’ve tried to simply eat in the kitchen. </p><p>After a week of everyone giving up on him—Eileen had stopped asking ‘are you okay’ and instead moved onto saying, ‘you’re an idiot’ with increasing frequency—Dean was surprised to hear from Cas, who’d been hanging out with Jody more lately, finally making an effort to visit Claire now that the semester was over.</p><p>As Dean’s phone rang, he brushed chip crumbs off his chest, cursing himself for the stains on the fresh shirt he’d put on after today’s mandated shower. He reached over to get his phone from his bedside table, clicking ‘mute’ on his remote as he looked at his flashing phone screen.</p><p>As usual, his throat closed a bit and his chest felt tight, all in hopes—and in fear—that it might be Donna. But instead, Castiel’s dumb face rippled across the screen, all squinting and confused from a seat at the war table, his face clearly saying ‘why are you taking a picture of me, human?’ </p><p>“Sup?” Dean muttered into the phone, adjusting himself on the bed, deciding his circulatory system might benefit from moving an inch in the last few hours. “How’s it going, Ca—”</p><p>“Dean,” Castiel breathed into the phone, sounding urgent. “Are Sam and Eileen around?”</p><p>Scowling at the fact that Cas had called him to ask about Sam and Eileen, but with his spidey-senses tingling at Cas’ tone, Dean sat up and replied with, “No, they left for a case this morning. Shot me a text, and didn’t even ask if I wanted to come, which sucks. I’m a third wheel but I’m a good wheel—”</p><p>“Damn it,” Cas swore, the cuss word sounding equally concerning and amusing as it clung to his harsh rasp. “You’ll have to do—”</p><p>Um, ouch?</p><p>“—Dean, I need your help. Or rather, Donna does.”</p><p>Immediately, Dean was on his feet, yanking open his drawers in search of something that wasn’t sweatpants. “Say no more, what’s up?”</p><p>“She called Jody and I,” Castiel explained, rushed. “She says she needs help, that she’s been captured. Something about a vampire nest, but the message was unclear. I suspect issues with reception.”</p><p>“When was this?”</p><p>“Minute ago. She’s in Lansing, just outside of Kansas City, Dean. Much closer to you than to us. I can send you the coordinates Jody retrieved from a GPS device.”</p><p>Dean nearly cracked his head on the corner of the sink as he struggled to jam his pants through the leg holes of some old jeans, tripping and wobbling. His phone cracked a bit in his hand as he squeezed it, and growled, “Why the fuck is she in Kansas hunting vampires on her god-damn-own, Cas?!”</p><p>He could <em>hear </em>Cas struggling on the other end, then the angel’s low rasp growled, “I’m not her babysitter, Dean. And I—”</p><p>There was a kerfuffle, and then Jody’s voice snapped through the receiver. “Listen, Winchester, Donna found a case and went on it, okay? She didn’t exactly <em>ask</em>, she just left a note and headed out. We’re lucky as pigs in shit—”</p><p>Was that the saying? Dean was pretty sure that wasn’t the saying.</p><p>“—that we even know where she is at all, okay? We’re lucky she’s alive enough to have left a message at all, now get in your damn overly-compensating-car and drive your ass to Lansing before I reach through this phone and—”</p><p>Another kerfuffle. </p><p>After a few scratching sounds, Castiel was back on the line. In a grunt, he said, “I’ll text you the exact address.”</p><p>“Cas—” Dean started, but the angel was as garbage as ever at goodbyes, and the line went dead.</p><p>With his jeans over his thighs and the phone freeing up his hand, Dean tripped his way into some socks and his jacket. He’d have to make some time later to sit with Jody and talk about how Baby was not an overly-compensating-car, but at the moment, he’d forgive her because he was just as concerned about Donna as she was.</p><p>Cas’ text was in his inbox by the time Dean threw himself into the driver’s seat of the Impala, his duffle packed haphazardly with every vampire-slaying tool he could get his hands on. Lansing was an hour away, but he planned on adhering to exactly zero traffic laws.</p><p>By doing so, Dean arrived at the address exactly twenty-three minutes later, his shirt sticking to his back by virtue of a generous amount of nervous sweat, and exactly three minutes after that, he was tiptoeing through the grimy hallways of an abandoned factory. It smelled a bit like mould and was suspiciously quiet for a vampire hangout. Usually, vampire nests were loud and reeked of alcohol and bad hair-gel, cheap perfume and, obviously, blood, but…</p><p>Dean ducked and gripped the silver knife he’d dipped in dead man’s blood as a noise like a lead pipe being dropped on the floor sent him nearly jumping out of his skin. He pressed himself against the wall just outside of a dark room, meaning to keep himself hidden, when he heard an all too familiar—</p><p>“Oofda! Oh, crap-sticks—”</p><p><em>Donna</em>.</p><p>Dean launched himself into the room, his duffle swinging, his arm reeling back to start hacking and slashing, when Donna shrieked and Dean had to clap his hands over his ears to avoid going deaf after Donna just barely missed shooting him right in the shoulder.</p><p>“Ow, <em>fuck!” </em>Dean yelped, rubbing at his ears.</p><p>Donna’s hand clapped to her mouth, and she stood pin straight, his eyes wide. “Dean?! Dean, are you okay? Oh, jeepers, whadda mess—”</p><p>She rushed towards him, looking pale and startled, but overall, kinda totally okay and <em>not </em>held captive by hungry vampires. Actually, she looked pretty damn good, with her ringlets around her face, loose from a messy bun atop her head, and were those new earrings? A new makeup colour on her lips, maybe—</p><p>They both jumped a foot in the air when the door behind Dean closed with a <em>BANG</em>, sending them both stumbling back away from it, their weapons raised.</p><p>“What the…” Dean whispered, while Donna hissed, “Stupid vampires!”</p><p>Dean and Donna exchanged looks and then rushed to the door, peering out through a broken grate in the metal. After a few useless attempts at trying to unlock the thing, they crammed their heads together, peering out into the otherwise empty corridor. </p><p>“What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is goin’ on?” Donna whispered, her eyes wide. “They lock us in here?”</p><p>Dean, however, was more concerned with her rather than the locked door. He could deal with that later, if they weren’t turned into blood pudding first. </p><p>“You okay?” Dean asked, hushed, eyes sweeping over her for injuries. “Did they hurt you?”</p><p>Donna gulped, her eyes surveying him thoroughly as well, “They mighta if I even saw one, but I ain’t seen none yet. Was only here for ‘bout fifteen minute before you rushed in. Are <em>you</em> alright?” she asked, patting at him like she was going to find vampires in his shirt. “How’d you escape?”</p><p>Dean stared at her. </p><p>“What?” he asked dumbly.</p><p>Donna blinked and leaned away, her eyes narrowing. “Did they letcha go?”</p><p>“‘They’?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows at her. “You mean...vampires?”</p><p>Donna glanced around the room, as if a vampire was going to come out of the shadows and say ‘hey, yes, me! I’m a vampire!’ With an adorable scowl—<em>no, Dean, bad time to notice how cute she is</em>—Donna huffed and said, “Jodes said you left her a message? She and Castiel said you were in deep doo-doo with some vamps and needin’ saving but—”</p><p>“—you were closer than they were?” Dean finished, realization settling over him. He made a mental reminder to not only talk to Jody about insulting his car, but to also mention she was a lying, scheming butthead. Her <em>and </em>Cas.</p><p>“Yes,” Donna said with a nod. “That’s exactly what they said. They were off somewhere north with Claire, takin’ her to see some show in Rapid City. Said you were captured and needed help? Said that Sam and Eileen were off in Nebraska somewhere and couldn’t get to ya...”</p><p>Dean groaned and paced into the room, looking around the grimy, dirty walls and abandoned lockers. It might’ve been a staff room at some point, but now looked like a horror movie set. Or a vampire nest. </p><p>Jody, Cas, Claire, Sam and Eileen missed their callings as location scouts for the film industry. The meddling, scheming motherfu—</p><p>“I am not captured by vampires,” Dean pointed out, turning on his heel and poking himself in the chest. “I am not in need of saving, and, as it turns out, neither are you.”</p><p>Donna looked down at herself, as if checking to see if she was a prisoner, and then she glanced up at him. “Uh, nope. Not captured either… Oh…”</p><p>As it clicked in Donna’s head, her mouth dropped open. “Those big ol’ liars!”</p><p>“Our friend suck,” Dean said flatly, shaking his head, dropping his knife to his side. “They freakin’ plotted to get us in a room together and—” Dean stomped past Donna and pounded at the door. “LET US OUT, YOU DICKHEADS. CASTIEL, JODY; YOU GUYS ARE TOAST!”</p><p>“They tricked us,” Donna said, looking a bit shell-shocked.</p><p>Dean looked over his shoulder at her and nodded, “Yeah. They did. I bet Sam and Eileen aren’t even hunting in Nebraska. I bet all five of ‘em are sitting on the tailgate of Jody’s truck somewhere around here and congratulating each other on a prank well played.”</p><p>“Why would they <em>do </em>that?” Donna asked, exasperated. Dean watched her click on the safety of her gun and slide it responsibly onto the holder attached to her hip at the band of her jeans. </p><p>
  <em>‘Cause they want us to talk.</em>
</p><p>“‘Cause they’re meddlers,” Dean muttered, jerking the duffle off his shoulder onto the floor and ducking down to wipe off his blade. Perfectly good dead man’s blood wasted…</p><p>The silence that followed was awkward.</p><p>Donna’s boots shuffled on the gross floor. From above his head, he heard her sniff, and then; “So we gotta break out.”</p><p>Dean folded the bloody handkerchief into a near square and sighed, “This isn’t an escape room, D-train. Honestly, if Cas is using his mojo to keep us locked in here, no amount of lock picking is gonna get us out.”</p><p>“Well, how are we gonna get out?” she asked, and when he looked up, her saw her cheeks were pink as she watched him. “What do they want us to do?”</p><p>Dean didn’t answer right away. Because if he had to say ‘they want us to talk about our feelings’, he’d probably cry like a fucking toddler, and honestly, he did not need this shit right now. He didn’t need to <em>see </em>Donna reject him again, his imagination had done a good enough job over the last few weeks as it was.</p><p>Instead, he just murmured as he sat back on his ass, back thumping against the door, “They want us to talk, I guess. How, uh… How you been? Haven’t talked to you in a while.”</p><p>Donna hesitated, glancing up at the door. “Uh…been fine. Workin’. I, uh, painted my bathroom.”</p><p>“Nice. What colour?”</p><p>“Purple,” Donna admitted, shrugging a bit and smiling. “Ya know how I am.”</p><p>“Better than that weird yellow,” Dean pointed out, raising his brows. “That was a weird yellow.”</p><p>“Sure was,” Donna nodded, putting her hands on her hips and blowing out a stream of air from puffy cheeks. “Um...how about you? How ya been?”</p><p>Sleeping, crying, watching documentaries about pollution, and getting lectured by everyone in my contact list about being a sad sack of shit.</p><p>“Researching,” Dean supplied, watching his fingers meet between his knees, his nails picking at his skin. “Sam and Eileen have been hunting a lot, so I stay behind and hit the books.”</p><p>“Oh,” Donna said, her swallow visibly over the collar of her t-shirt. “Yeah…right. I, uh, it’s just… Castiel said you hadn’t been doin’ so hot, so…”</p><p>Castiel. The fucking <em>snitch</em>.</p><p>“What’s Cas doin’ telling people about my business anyway?” Dean asked, scowling.</p><p>Donna shrugged, licking at her lips. “He’s been spendin’ a lot of time with Jodes. Co-parenting Claire and all that jazz, y’know?”</p><p>“How much co-parenting does a twenty year old need?” Dean asked, raising a brow.</p><p>“Not sure,” Donna chuckled, scratching at the back of her neck and flicking a curl away from her cheek. “But it always involve a lot of wine on the porch—”</p><p>“They drink with Claire?” Dean asked, perplexed. He couldn’t imagine Jody being okay with giving Claire wine. It had been a hassle just to sneak the kid a beer on her birthday this year…</p><p>“Oh no,” Donna laughed, flapping her hand through the air. “Just the two of them. For an angel, the guy really throws ‘em back, y’know? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the two of ‘em...” Donna paused, eyeing Dean, and then she diverted the topic, clearing her throat and murmuring, “Anyway...I hope you’re okay, Dean. Really. I...just heard you haven’t been doin’ so good, so…”</p><p>The amusement of picturing Jody and Cas wasted on the steps of Jody’s cabin faded quickly, and Dean found himself staring at Donna’s boots, too humiliated to look her in the eye. Everyone had told her he’d been depressed, hadn’t they?</p><p>Might as well face the music...or they’d never get out of there.</p><p>“Just havin’ a rough patch, that’s all,” he murmured, yanking at the skin around his nails. “Not a big deal, honestly. Just a regular Tuesday or whatever.”</p><p>Another silence followed. This one seemed infinitely more awkward, as Donna had seemingly nothing to say to Dean’s confession.</p><p>He didn’t look up when she sighed and walked over to him, dropping down beside him, her back also thumping against the steel door. She was warm at his side, but he felt nothing but nerves at her closeness. Every instinct he had was to rest his head on her shoulder, but they couldn’t behave like that anymore. They weren’t close like that anymore, he supposed. She’d said they shouldn’t talk for a while, they shouldn’t see each other—</p><p>“I haven’t been a very good friend,” Donna whispered, nudging him with her shoulder.</p><p>When Dean looked over at her, forcing himself to meet her chocolate brown eyes, she smiled tightly at him. “Been dealing with my own stuff,” she admitted quietly, her eyes pinched at the corners.</p><p>Dean smiled back. “Yeah, I heard. Jody kinda told me.”</p><p>“That snitch,” Donna teased, wrinkling her nose.</p><p>“We should boycott Jodstiel,” Dean joked. “Lock ‘em in a room together until they can’t stand each other. Then our secrets will be safe.”</p><p>To his relief, they both laughed, though it was still a bit uncomfortable. </p><p>In attempts to take advantage of this time to talk with her, Dean admitted, “I haven’t been such a great friend either, D-Train. I’m sorry. Really, I should’ve called or texted, just…y’know, to see how you’ve been.”</p><p>“Don’t say that,” Donna pleaded softly. “I…I was the one who said we should have some space from each other, y’know? I was embarrassed.”</p><p>It was Dean’s turn to nudge her when Donna looked down at her lap, blinking hard. “Hey, call the cops on this pity party, girl. You…had to do what you had to do. I made stuff awkward, I fucked up.”</p><p>“How did y’fuck up?” Donna demanded, raising her head and looking over with a tinge of anger. “Y’were nothin’ but sweet and real nice to do that for me—come to my folks’ place, that is. You were doing me a favor and I got weird. A-And…” Donna raised a hand to her face, rubbing at her forehead. “And I just really miss ya, Dean. Every day, I miss ya.”</p><p>Ow. Ow, it hurt. </p><p>Dean reached between them and linked their pinkies. Maybe holding hands was too couple-y, but she was his friend. They could hold pinkies.</p><p>“I miss you, too, D-Train.” </p><p>Dean stared forward, too petrified to see her reaction, but his shoulders sagged as she slid sideways a bit and rested her head on his shoulder, her wild, curly hair tucked under his chin and tickling his cheekbones. </p><p>Dean sat perfectly still as her cool fingers extended and brushed the back of his softly.</p><p>“Sorry I ruined our friendship,” Donna whispered. “I didn’t mean for everything to happen like it did.”</p><p>“Sorry I ruined our friendship, too,” Dean replied, even more hushed. “I thought casual sex was a thing I knew how to do.”</p><p>“I thought it’d be easier with someone I already cared about,” Donna added, sniffling. God, he hoped she wasn’t crying. Not because he felt uncomfortable, but because he’d start up, too.</p><p>“Same,” he agreed. “I’d done it with people before. I thought I had it down pat. I’d been told that I was emotionally unavailable and allergic to commitment, and I had myself convinced feelings and stuff wasn’t for me—for any hunters, really—but I was wrong.”</p><p>Donna raised her head and Dean felt his face get cold, the blood draining from it. There he’d gone and made it awkward. He’d reminded her why she’d wanted to put distance between them in the first place. Jody was out of her mind if she thought Donna would’ve been into him, she’d been tossing too many tumblers of whiskey with Cas. He was a dumpster fire of an emotional mess—</p><p>“What’d you mean?” Donna breathed. </p><p>He felt her gaze on the side of his face. </p><p>Their friends and family wanted them to talk, and he and Donna were already not talking outside of this set up, so...why the hell not confess? Cas was right; he’d regret it if he didn’t speak up. He’d made the mistake with Cas those years ago, and while Dean was the king of making the same mistakes over and over, this mistake felt like one that he didn’t have to make again.</p><p>So he confessed to the dilapidated locker on the other side of the room. </p><p>“Look,” he said with an exhale, his cheeks puffed for a moment, “that...weekend at your parents place. I...feel like a con man, to be honest. I offered to go because I wanted to be supportive, because I knew you were hurting after that Jeremy guy and—”</p><p>“I know,” Donna groaned, causing him to look over with a jerk of his head. She was rubbing at her face, looking pained. “Fudge, I know, Dean. You were being so nice and I repaid ya by making it weird—”</p><p>“No!” Dean interrupted, shaking his head, his eyes a bit wide. “No, Donna. You told me to take a hike because I deserved it.”</p><p>“But I slept with you!” Donna cried.</p><p>“And I slept with <em>you!</em>” Dean rebutted, laughing incredulously, flailing his free hand through the air. “You totally said ‘no sex’ when we got there, but I still made a move. And...fuck, I...I fell in love with your family, even your mean sister—dude, she is like a <em>viper</em>—”</p><p>Donna winced, but nodded.</p><p>“—They’re all just so fucking nice, and I think they really liked me. T-That didn’t help matters at all, Donna, because I knew how I felt about you going into it. And when we had sex, I just let it happen. I knew I was getting more out of it than you—”</p><p>Dean felt the hot flash of panic when Donna’s hand fell away from his, his pinkie left cold. It curled into his hand, his fingers forming a fist. With his teeth gritted, he powered on, furious with himself as his lashes grew a bit wet.</p><p>“I-I feel like a fuckin’ fraud,” Dean confessed, his voice tight. “I told you I wanted this no-strings attached, friends-with-benefits thing but I ended up falling for you and making it all fucking weird. I got all jealous when you decided to go for work-guy, and I offered to go with you to your parents place because I missed you so fucking bad, I just wanted to be close to you again—”</p><p>“<em>What?” </em>Donna asked in a breath. </p><p>Dean blinked, pissed off when a single tear escaped down the side of his face. He reached up quickly to brush it away and then turned to look at Donna, even though every bundle of nerves in his stomach coiled like barbed wire and begged him not to. </p><p>She was staring at him, her eyes shining, her face red, and her body turned towards him, breaking the contact between their arms. God, she was probably so embarrassed and disgusted.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Donna,” Dean whispered, wincing. “I really messed up.”</p><p>“You had <em>feelings </em>for me?” Donna asked, her voice high. He saw tears gathering on her lashes and his stomach squeezed. Her eyes scanned his face quickly, darting from eye-to-eye and down to his lips. “This whole time?”</p><p>“Since my birthday,” Dean breathed. “Probably before that, but I’m an idiot so what do I know?”</p><p>“You <em>are</em> an idiot,” Donna agreed, her hands gripping at the loose denim of her jeans into a fist. “You had feelings for me this whole time and you didn’t <em>tell</em> me?”</p><p>“I know,” Dean moaned, pulling his hands up to his eyes, kneading the meaty part of his palm against his brows. “I’m a fuckin’ liar a-and a fraud. I pretended to be all chill, but it ate me up when you started dating that Jeremy guy, and then I just offered to go with you to your parents place like it was this innocent thing—”</p><p>To his surprise, Donna thwapped him in the arm with her hand, causing him to jump a bit in alarm. When he looked over, her mouth was pursed into an angry pout and her eyes were <em>definitely </em>wet. </p><p>“You big ol’ idiot!” Donna cried, a tear leaking out of her eyes onto her patchy cheeks. Her finger jutted at him. “When you said ‘this was a mistake’ after we boinked, I...I thought you meant you <em>didn’t </em>have feelings for me. I thought you’d seen that <em>I </em>had feelings for <em>you</em>!”</p><p>Dean’s mouth dropped open and he audibly choked. “I beg your—what?”</p><p>Donna looked like she could lay an egg, her neck and cheeks a patchy red. Flustered, she said tightly, “I’ve been spendin’ the last few weeks cryin’ my eyes out because I thought I’d embarrassed you or that I’d broken the rules to our arrangement. I thought I was gettin’ more outta all these shenanigans because <em>you </em>said you wanted no-strings attached, and <em>you </em>said you were emotionally unavailable and that hunters didn’t get nice things! Y-You… You<em> fuckin’</em> idiot, Dean!”</p><p>She punched him in the arm, and ow, yes, he deserved that. Jody had <em>told </em>him Donna had been crying over him and he’d refused to believe it. Now Donna had punched it right into his skin, and was crying about it right to his face, and this was probably the most humiliated and mortified Dean had ever been in his life. </p><p>“Oh my God,” Dean breathed, staring at her. “I’m an idiot.”</p><p>“And me, too,” Donna said with a little borderline-weepy inhale. “I’m an idiot, too.”</p><p>Dean swallowed, shaking his head. “Bunch of fudgin’ knuckleheads.”</p><p>“Been practically datin’ for months and fallin’ in love with each other and we wasted time pretending we were just fudge buddies,” Donna said, now definitely a little weepy, her voice wobbling and her chin crumpling. </p><p>Love. </p><p>Well.</p><p>She’d gone and said it, hadn’t she?</p><p>She seemed to realise what she’d said at the same time he did. With wide eyes, they shared a look of slight panic.</p><p>Then Dean’s tongue darted out and wet his lips. In a croak, he admitted, “I think I’m in love with you, D-Train.”</p><p>A fat droplet of water hit the ground hard from a leaky pipe in the middle of the room, causing them both to jump in the thick tension. But after a shared nervous laugh, Donna swallowed loudly and said in a squeak, “Right back atcha, D. Been fallin’ for you since I met’cha, I think.”</p><p>For the first time in weeks, Dean’s lips spread into a smile. A big one. A big, dumb grin, even. </p><p>And when Donna leaned in, he felt her smile on her lips, too. They hovered like that, the tips of their noses bumping. It wasn’t a kiss, not really. Not at first, but with what seemed like a surge of confidence, Donna leaned forward and their lips pressed together. </p><p>Dean sighed, sounding stupidly content—no, happy. It was the dopiest sound to escape him in quite some time, but the explosion in his chest of pure joy was so cliche that it deserved nothing less than the sappiest sound he could create. Every bit of pain that’d settled inside him since their trip to Minnesota seemed to shatter like glass, the shards blowing up into happy shit like rainbows, and puppies, and nurse outfits and cowboy boots—</p><p>Dean pulled away, just a bit, and he breathed out a tiny, “Oh.”</p><p>Donna’s eyes slid open and she asked in a gasp, “What? Did I do something—”</p><p>“No,” Dean whispered, shaking his head. “I just realised my wish came true.”</p><p>“Your wish?”</p><p>Raising a hand to her jawline, he brushed his fingers over her skin. “Yeah, from my birthday.”</p><p>“Oh, you big sap,” Donna chuckled, reaching forward to fist her hand into his shirt, tugging him close. “I love you, y’know.”</p><p>Dean laughed—like a big love-sick idiot—and yelped a bit when Donna used the leverage of his t-shirt to swing herself onto his lap, straddling his hips. If he thought his biggest fantasy was to have sex with a nurse in cowboy boots, he’d been wrong. Turned out, his fantasy was to be straddled by a hunter with big brown eyes, curly blonde hair, curves for days, a gun strapped to her thigh, and who was as hopelessly in love with him as he was with her.</p><p>“So,” Donna whispered against his lips, “are we still friends with benefits?”</p><p>“No.” Dean shook his head, nudging his nose against hers. “How about something as sappy as we are? Lovers with benefits? Or is that too cheesy?”
</p><p>Donna looked thoughtful, then she asked, “Well, if we’re already lovers, then what’s the ‘benefit’ part?”</p><p>With one hand on her hip and the other sliding into her hair, Dean leaned forward and murmured, “The benefit is that we’re best friends, D-Train.”</p><p>“Oh,” she breathed, and whispered against his mouth, “you betcha.”</p><p>THE END</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for comin' along for this ride! I hope you had fun. Please leave me one last comment to let me know what you thought overall. I love hearing about your favourite bits and all that jazz. :)</p><p>Feel free to subscribe to me as an author here on AO3--I have a modern AU Destiel fic coming out very shortly! Would love to see you there, too! </p><p>Please visit https://spn-mediabigbang.tumblr.com/ or the collection linked at the top of this page to check out the rest of the submissions for the SPN Media Big Bang 2020. All the fics and all the art were just so awesome. Give them love, 'cause they deserve it.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please leave a comment to let me know where you're at in this story; how're you enjoying the fic? What was your favourite part of this chapter? </p><p>Hope everyone is keeping happy, healthy, and safe in this pandemic! I recommend blankets, tea (or coffee!), and phone calls with loved ones. Oh, and of course, all the fanfic in the world. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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